


I Can See My Kingdom Now

by draconianApathy



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Also fluff, And a mage!, Angst, Disney AU, Fantasy AU, I swear it makes sense, Logan is a seer, M/M, Medieval AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Patton is a Prince, Remy and Emile will appear for a bit too, Roman is probably the lost prince, They're looking for a lost prince, Virgil is just a villager, eventually, for plot reasons, i may give specific warnings at the beginning of some chapters, im just trying to do smth decent, kinda bc I just got inspired by Aladdin and Anastasia, royal au, stay safe kids, there are obvious hints to royality, theres a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draconianApathy/pseuds/draconianApathy
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a kingdom which rose above all others thanks to its everlasting prosperity. Of course, there had been outer conflicts, but there wasn't a citizen who wouldn't say they were pretty content with the life they were conducting.It was called "the kingdom of Arcadia" and it was praised by foreigners because of how it resembled a constant Golden Age. Many had tried before to learn the secret to reach wealth and accomplishment.But the truth was that in order to understand and obtain peace, you initially have to first-hand witness and experience the worst of misfortunes. The royalty had intimated the whole people to never spread a word about the mishap out of the walls of Arcadia.It had shaken their inner tranquility so much they refused to talk about it publicly, it quickly became a taboo. Along with dark magic, since it was linked to the tragic story they had gotten themselves into.So sit back now and listen carefully to the tale I'm about to tell because this is the story of Arcadia and its long lost prince.





	1. Arcadia's Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a couple of possible trigger warnings before heading into the chapter:  
> -Mention of blood and bruises  
> -Asthma attack
> 
> Not really heavy, but I decided to warn you anyway.  
> Enjoy!

 

 _❝ I am a lost boy from Neverland_  
_Usually hanging out with Peter Pan_  
_And when we're bored we play in the woods_  
_Always on the run from Captain Hook_  
_"Run, run, lost boy," they say to me_  
_Away from all of reality. ❞_  

 

 

 

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom which rose above all others thanks to its everlasting prosperity. Of course, there had been outer conflicts, but there wasn't a citizen who wouldn't say they were pretty content with the life they were conducting. 

It was called "the kingdom of Arcadia" and it was praised by foreigners because of how it resembled a constant Golden Age. Many had tried before to learn the secret to reach wealth and accomplishment.

But the truth was that in order to understand and obtain peace, you initially have to first-hand witness and experience the worst of misfortunes. The royalty had intimated the whole people to never spread a word about the mishap out of the walls of Arcadia.

It had shaken their inner tranquility so much they refused to talk about it publicly, it quickly became a taboo. Along with dark magic, since it was linked to the tragic story they had gotten themselves into. 

So sit back now and listen carefully to the tale I'm about to tell because this is the story of Arcadia and its long lost prince.

 

You need to know that there were many little villages, every so often nameless ones, at the furthest corners of the kingdom. One of these was peculiar for the gorgeous and almost mystical forests that it presented, it was completely surrounded by green spots and only the center was inhabited by a modest group of families. There weren't many citizens, but it was big enough to host a school and an orphanage. The people who lived there didn't have the brightest or loudest of careers, but they were fine in their own quiet place, everybody knew each other and harmony ruled over them. It looked unnatural. It was as if the idyllic  _locus amoenus_  that was part of the ancient bucolic poetry came to life.

And who wouldn't be more eager to play in these natural parks than little kids? Or maybe two particular little kids, characterized by their adventurous behavior and childlike audacity, which let them feel able to face any threat the woods had to offer.

Especially Raegan, who was the brightest of the two: Raegan was a seven-year-old boy with a desire to just  _live_  the world, he was part of the local orphanage and didn't recall who his parents were. The weird thing was that neither did the orphanage runners: the adults only remembered this three-year-old kid wandering around the town, in simple white robes, the boy's face was stained with dirty spots and some minor wounds and scratches. They had thought he got lost and hurt in the forest, but none claimed to know him. That's why they took him in and cared for him, gave him a name and waited for his parents to manifest. But nobody came.

Orphans weren't really treated any differently than kids in families, they were part of a big family themselves, they went to a regular public school and played together with the other children, so they were merged into a big crowd of small people. They would make friends and meet up at these friends' houses, maybe even have meals there.

Here Raegan met a little Virgil Mòros, the typical shy kid who didn't know how to approach other children. Their friendship started off with small talks and those that you could call adjustments to one another. Raegan watched him play with toys on his own, while he preferred running around, racing other kids, any physical movement was enough for him to get excited, really. It was an epiphany for him when they found out a ball to play with.

Their first conversations were mostly like:

"Do you want to play with us over there?"

"No, it's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I don't want to."

"Alright."

Then it became more like:  
"We're trying to set up a new game, wanna join?" but the answers were always different versions of "no".  
Raegan was a bit perplexed as to he didn't understand how he could make the kid open up, but little did he know that one day he'd have an idea that would lead them to become the closest of friends.

Raegan had come up to him and sit down in front of him, getting his attention.

"Hey! Can I play with you?" Virgil had looked at him for a split second, then a faint smile had crossed his lips, he had then proceeded to hand him a bunch of his toys, that were some little animals, and a couple of human-like figures.

"Sure."

"How do we play?"

"I usually make up stories to put my toys in."

Raegan's face had lit up so much that moment, he hadn't really ever thought of doing that, who knew how fun it would be!

"That's so cool! You're Virgil, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm Raegan! And I'd love it if I could  _please_  make up the story this time?", he had put his hands together in a pleading act. Virgil couldn't help but nod at him.

"Of course, there's no problem."

Raegan had presented the brightest of smiles and he took up a bunch of toys; the story was about the two of them being part of the Royal Guard, they were the true mighty heroes who were the only hope against the infamous Dragon Witch.

Virgil had been more than amazed at the creativity of his new playfellow, which had made him pretty happy to play with the boy in the first place, not to mention that he was having the most fun he ever had compared to when he was by himself. When he was alone he'd just stay sit in that one spot; on the other hand, Raegan used his dinosaur toy to pretend it could fly around the playground, so the two had to follow it around, sometimes even run to "catch up" with it. 

So as Raegan had entered his bubble, Virgil was slowly adapting to the other's personality. After that day they quickly became inseparable, they even met up multiple times out of school: this is where they started to explore bit by bit the forest next to Virgil's home and found out other ways to play.

In fact, they stopped using toys and started doing actual make-believe, sometimes they even dressed up for the different occasions they had to perform. They would walk around and pretend to have other identities, to be in faraway places, to live in castles or palaces. Raegan's favorite role to play was the knight: he would pick up any long enough stick and use it as his  _"perfectly manicured sword"_ , any flying animal would be one of his mortal enemies he had to protect Virgil from, who every time claimed to be "actually able to stand for himself, thank you very much." but with a smile on his face.

One day they'd be alone against the world, the other they'd be against each other, the other one they would just practice sword fighting together. It was fun, it was different, they eventually ended up all dirty and tired from all the fictitious traveling.

But they were best friends, that was all that counted. True, until they reached their tenth birthday.

 

When Raegan and Virgil were busy being ten-year-old kids, two other boys were busy being teenage messes. But oh, you first need to know about Arcadia's fellow kingdom, Tinfea. Its royal family had been a great hand for Arcadia's king and queen: apart from being of help to rise up again after the attempt to overthrow Arcadia's government, they also offered to intervene in the search for their missing child. 

The two families were close, first of all, the Tinfea sovereigns lent their seer's abilities to see into the future and locate the lost boy: his name was Logan Diànoia and had had the power of magic in his veins ever since he was born. His parents had died in ... particular circumstances and the sovereigns decided to take him in and provide him with both regular and magic lessons even if he was little. He had always had quite a passion for learning, his curiosity also benefited him in expanding his knowledge and mind. Not that you would only find him in his chambers or in the library constantly studying, well mostly, but he was also a good friend of the royalty's only child, Patton Pàis.

There were many times in which nobles would meet up with the Royals and bring their kids to play with Patton, but most of the time he'd be alone, so Logan was enough for him to be of good company. They ended up having lessons together, sometimes Logan would even teach or lecture him; Patton found his way of speaking pretty funny, he sounded like an old cultured man in the body of a child. Despite being opposed to a lot of entertaining activities, the seer didn't really stop the prince from having fun: he would just watch over him and prevent him from getting hurt, though it had happened that Patton had played tricks on him to let him have some fun for once too. Like that one time he made Logan chase him when he actually wanted to play tag. Then Patton would smirk at his out of breath friend, realization would hit Logan and he'd just smile and say "You sly little kid."

"You're a kid too, Logan ..."

"Regardless."

There were also quiet moments in which they would lay on the grass and look at the sky, and the little prince was more than happy to stay silent and listen to his friend's voice that traveled through different flows of thought, to the point he would somehow start philosophizing. He always sounded passionate during these moments and appreciated Patton for listening every time.

Logan was fourteen when he was busy being a teenage mess, staying up late to find ways of helping the kingdom of Arcadia, catching some innocent animals to practice his spells on, feeling bad when he failed at them and always pushing himself to the limit. He was consulting an enormous spells book, being a medium-level mage by then, to find an exact way to track the prince of Arcadia when a thirteen-year-old Patton knocked on his door.

It was fairly late at night, so Logan found himself surprised to see him awake.

« I wasn't expecting you here, Patton. » his affirmation sounded more like a question to himself.

The shorter boy showed a quick smile only to look down right after, he seemed kind of gloomy.

« Yeah, I wasn't either. » his voice like a whisper.

Logan arched an eyebrow, his body was aching with worry. « Are you feeling quite alright? Please, sit down. »

The only words that escaped Patton's mouth were "No, it's-" as the seer led him to his desk and then proceeded to stand right in front of him. He honestly had to cover up how glad he was to see him- wait, what was he thinking?

« Thank you, Lo, but I just ... wanted to ask you something. »

Oh, boy.

« Go ahead. »

« Well, you know how we've been friends since we were little? »

What is this feeling?

« Yes, what are you implying? »

« Uh, you know I've never asked you anything and respected your magic? »

Oh. Logan was taken aback because of where the conversation was going. Or was that disappointment in his face?

« Please, be clear, what is it that you need? » Patton started fidgeting and wasn't really able to look at him in the eyes.

« I ... I need you to cast a spell on me. »

« What? » Logan lost at words? This sure was something.

« Listen, I have good reasons- »

« Patton, I am not a full magician yet, who knows what could happen! Plus you do not need any kind of magic, if it is an excuse you're looking for to escape some sort of lecture, then I shall help in different ways. »

He stopped when he noticed his friend looking up at him and giving him a sad smile, so he walked up to him slowly, staring at him, a sense of dread forming in his stomach. His look just screamed "What's going on?".

« It's different this time. » Patton took a deep breath, picking at the chair's wood, too anxious to talk any longer than that.

« I haven't been of help at all with this lost prince thing ... My family is supposed to look for him in the first place, but ... I can't do anything for them, I feel kind of ... useless. » if his voice was breaking, then Logan's emotions were shattering upon hearing his closest friend say such severe words.

« What ... are you talking about? » Logan sounded almost hurt, why would he belittle himself like that? But most importantly, how long had he been thinking about this? And why didn't he tell him sooner?

« Logan, you can see it too, I'm not contributing to anything- »

« You're only thirteen- »

« -which is why » Patton marked that last word to grab his attention « I was thinking: if I were able to draw somewhere the image you pictured in your head of the prince's face, then maybe it would be easier for them to see it and for us to look for him, wouldn't it? »

The seer just sighed « Your point? »

« I'd like you to find a spell that would give me the skills to do that. » Patton spoke these words so firmly that Logan thought he was talking to his father instead. 

« You want drawing skills. » Patton simply nodded, serious in the eyes « So that I can project into your mind the prince's exact looks and you can represent it on paper to help Arcadia's king and queen. » another nod.

Logan was about to yell at him for how stupid that sounded, tell him that he didn't have to prove himself to anyone in order for them to love him or judge his worth, that he didn't have to do this at all, that he should instead tell him why he was feeling so wrong, but every thought died in his head. He wanted to be a good friend, but little did he know he was about to be the most selfish one.

The older one took too long to respond, so Patton's hope was fading away bit by bit and his face started falling, and Logan just couldn't  _bear_  to see him like that, he felt responsible for his friend's happiness at this point. He wouldn't let him down now, would he?

He wasn't really one of those touchy people, but he found himself making his way toward the boy and placing a hand on his shoulder, « I just ... don't want to hurt you. » he wore a concerned expression that the prince couldn't help but understand. Of course he was scared, he had never practiced his magic on humans before, he didn't find it quite correct.

Patton smiled then settled his own hand on the other's arm « I know. But I trust you, that's why I came to you! » 

« I'm not sure this is a good idea, though. »

« You should be more conscious of your own abilities, Logan. » he then presented a smirk and leaned in, as if he were up to tell a secret. « Aren't you in fact the best  _and_  youngest mage in the whole kingdom? »

A grin crept on the seer's face « I have still to reach perfection. » he admitted, stepping away from the boy a couple of paces.   
They shared a look, then Logan gave in and faced the multiple books on his bed and started to go through their index. 

« I'll see what I can do. » 

Patton lit up immediately and basically ran to hug him tight and thank him over and over again, in the meantime Logan froze and stopped working for as long as the boy held him in his arms. Damn him and his powers over him.

But most importantly, damn feelings.

He spent half an hour looking at different Latin names and descriptions that never exactly matched what he was looking for, the prince in the meantime had peacefully fallen asleep on the desk. Finally, two spells got his attention: one simply gave any skill you wished for that lasted a week from the moment in which it was cast, the other would give you an everlasting perfect ability, but you had to pay the price. 

Of course it was death, specifically, the cursed person would be dying the day before their wedding at 23:59.   
Wedding. Logan suddenly remembered the most logical thing that was going to happen if the Pàis family was going to be the one finding the prince of Arcadia, that is Patton was going to obviously get married with this boy once he'd reached adult age. 

Something hit his heart real hard as realization set into him, he felt paranoia eat his mind away; he had to just admit it to himself, the only problem with him was that he had been crushing on Patton for quite a while now.

So there was a voice in his head. 

Logan was a fourteen-year-old boy who still didn't have enough common sense to understand right and wrong, he was just a servant with little to no other job than to provide the sovereigns with information. He never did anything wrong, but there was always a first time. The voice in his head was just too loud, screaming  _"if you can't have him, then none else would"._  He didn't mean to do such a mess, he still didn't know where that was going to go.

« Fine! » he shouted at himself, slamming his hands on the book, the sudden movement woke Patton up in an instant. He looked up at Logan, curiosity in his eyes. « Did you find anything? » he asked followed by a yawn.

« Yeah but ... » he looked at the angelic little princely face, « ... there's only one. And it's dangerous. » how could he do this?

« What for? » 

Logan started explaining, but he regretted his decision as he was talking about his inevitable death. Maybe that part would scare him enough to just let it go. Maybe another prince or princess would find the boy and he could still have some kind of chance, maybe-

« Do it. »

« I apologize, what did you just say? »

« Do it. » Patton ordered firmly, a serious look on his face to mark how determined he was about it.

« You want me to place a curse on yourself. »

« If it's the only way then so be it. I don't care, I'll have eight years to prepare for the inevitable day. » he sounded insecure about that one last bit, but it looked like he wasn't going to back down any sooner.

Logan was just whispering "I can't let you do this." when he was cut off by Patton's « And besides, death will eventually come for me anyway. » he laughed it off in a vain attempt to lighten up the mood.

« I don't think I can- »

«  _Please_. » Patton put his hand on Logan's « Do it for me, okay? »

God damn it. 

And there he was, giving up to his longtime friend yet again. He couldn't believe he was actually placing a curse upon the prince of Tinfea. His best friend. The one he lo-  _cared_  about. 

To make him feel better about himself.

Some disturbing red lights began floating around the room, Logan's eyes darkened until every spot of his pupils was pitch black, he raised his hand toward the boy in front of him and drew a sharp symbol into the air, he then proceeded to recite the Latin formula, he pointed his finger to the symbol which flew against Patton and hit him hard, causing him to shield his face with his arms. And just like that, everything was back to normal. 

Logan was breathing heavily and Patton felt definitely shaken from what he had just seen, he looked up at his friend and worried instantly for him; he let him sit down and catch his breath for a couple of minutes, providing him with some water to support him. How much of his energy did that thing take away from him?

« How about you try it out? Let's see if it worked? »

« Uh, sure. » Patton stepped away with uncertainty and took some paper and ink, he locked eyes with a particular weirdly shaped object of the room and started drawing it from reference. After some minutes he had already finished and was shocked at how well and detailed it turned out, he showed it to Logan excitedly and started jumping around from happiness. 

But the whole deal wasn't yet done. « Are you okay to let me see his face or ...? »

« I can handle it, I'm fine. »

Logan made him sit right across him, then he stared into his eyes, focused, and thought about just putting his knowledge into the other's head; it was when Patton's eyes widened that he realized he had actually succeeded.  
Patton started drawing immediately, concentration stuck in his expression. It didn't take him long to be done with it. 

Logan looked down at the picture and almost fell out of his chair.

« It's ... » Patton listened to him carefully « ... exactly what I have seen. Patton, it is ... perfect. »

 

The day it happened Virgil and Raegan decided to visit the forest early in the morning so they could have enough time to play before the inevitable appearance of the royalty of Arcadia: after they found out the appearances of their missing child, they started traveling the whole kingdom in order to find him at all costs. They said they made 10-year-old kids line up and get compared to a certain picture, so that was what was going to happen to Virgil and Raegan too, but first, they had to get cleaned, dressed in the best robes they had, boring stuff that would take up too much of their precious acting time. That's why they went there earlier than ever.

It was a pleasant and clear spring day, they noticed the multiple flowers that had been growing while they pretended to be pirates in the latest weeks, they also saw more birds flying around out of their nests and making pleasant sounds as they battered their wings.

They changed the storyline of their make-believe for that special occasion in which they brought with them their wooden swords fabricated by the local woodworker that had taken a liking into them because of their passion for nature. Raegan was leading the way as a gentle breeze flew through his little red cape, which was actually only an old ripped shirt of Virgil's father. He followed the path they had learned by heart, which led to a clear pond that they had always seen frozen during winter. A couple of waterlilies were lying gently on the surface of the water. The place looked magical.

Raegan looked back at his companion, then stretched out his arm to him « Here take my hand. »

« I thought I was your knight, not a damsel in distress. »

The orphan boy rolled his eyes but smirked at the remark « We have to do your investiture first. Come along,  _young man._  »

Virgil took his hand anyway and let him help down the little steep hill that separated them from the pond. They walked up to it, then Raegan turned to his friend smiling, the light of the sun hitting the back of his head, which gave his already messy hair a goldish brown color. 

They imagined they were in a castle's throne room full of festooning of red and gold hanging from different areas of the Great Hall, the whole kingdom present, breaths held as they waited for their prince to speak, they were hanging on his future words.

Virgil bowed down his head, placing his left knee on the ground and bending his right one, he then placed his right hand on it, while his wooden sword was laying on the ground not too far off from him.

« Virgil Mòros. » Raegan looked down at him with a solemn expression, he raised his sword and lightly placed its blade first on one and then on the other shoulder, while he was speaking the words « I, prince Raegan, hereby declare you as my first personal knight and head of the Royal Guard. »

The golden eyed boy took off his cape and draped it across Virgil's shoulders. Virgil stood up after that and all he could say was « " _Hereby declare_ "? How do you even know what that means? » 

Raegan gave him an annoyed look « Soft you, now! I just gave you a title, behave. », then he walked off somewhere imprecise and left Virgil wondering what kind of books he read at the orphanage. It wasn't the first time he said weird lines and wouldn't even know what they meant exactly. It was as if he just knew the right context.

Virgil was forced to snap out of his thoughts when an impossibly fast animal ran past them and stopped thirty meters away from them, keeping a fierce stance; it looked like it was  _smirking_  at them from afar. The creature that was staring at them showed off its orangish-red and white fur glowing under the sun, it appeared to be quite a mystical form with those shining yellow irises that kinda matched Raegan's. He was, in fact, the one struck by its charm, how could a simple fox like that appear so majestic? He felt like he wanted to be like it too. Small, but important.

The fox took a few steps towards the boys, it didn't seem like it wanted to be friendly, more like to challenge them, chin up and mischievous gaze. The two friends shared a look.

« It clearly wants us to approach. »

« I don't think it is a good idea. »

« Then what do you suggest, my fellow knight? » Raegan turned to his best friend with a radiant smile, keeping up their make-believe.

« Maybe we should take some steps forward too? »

« So we'd be safe if it wants to attack us or we won't scare it away quickly? » Virgil simply nodded.

« Smart thinking. Then I shall face it. » his tone sounded so dramatic he could hear Virgil roll his eyes from behind him. He took a step forward, but before his foot could touch the ground again the animal was already sprinting away, causing Raegan to immediately run after it and, of course, the other villager couldn't help but follow them. Who knows where the fox would lead them? A whole new world to explore? Would they find new roles to play? Or maybe it was taking them to its own home, trusting them enough to let them into the forest's unseen. 

But the chase had been going on for quite a while, the animal wasn't giving any sign of slowing down and Virgil felt like he was experiencing the whole forest over again at maximum speed, he couldn't even remember where they had left or how long would it take to go back home. Raegan's rapture, on the other hand, made him able to keep up with the fox, and easily avoid any obstacle, it was his determination that was giving him the energy to run as fast as he possibly could and enough breath to jump every other meter.

Why was following that animal so tempting? Raegan felt like he couldn't stop though he didn't quite acknowledge the reason why, there was something fascinating about it, but other than that he felt like he was being pulled. He wasn't aware he was only going to find trouble: Virgil wasn't used to running  _this_  much.

« Hey. Prince? » no response.

Virgil wasn't able to catch his breath, his heart beating too fast. « Ra- Raegan? »

He wasn't listening. 

He was about to call him again when he gasped for air and before he could do anything else he found himself losing balance and falling face down onto the ground with a loud thud. He had tripped over something he couldn't yet comprehend, his head lightly hit the ground and was now covered in dirt and some green from the grass around the spot he dropped his whole body into. Raegan turned instantly and his eyes widened at the sight, causing him to stop and tripping over his own feet, not used to the sudden stop.

He caught himself and glanced over to his right where the fox was now long gone, knowing he will hardly ever see it again; he wanted to rush over to his friend but he felt his limbs as heavy as his breath. He felt as if everything was moving in slow motion around him, the weight of his body too excessive to bear. He looked like a zombie as he was hardly taking steps.

Virgil in the meantime had been able to push himself up on his hands, despite the skin on his palms was burning with blood and dirt, he looked up at Raegan with a pained expression as he slowly got to his knees to check on Virgil.

Somehow the fallen boy still hadn't caught his breath, which sometimes got mixed up with small coughs; Virgil thought this feeling was normal, he had never run that fast for that long, he had felt pain in his chest after running before. But this time it was worse than just simple pain, it felt as if his lungs were shrinking with every breath he took, even his heartbeat didn't hint to slow down at all, it only increased together with the speed of his breaths. He could no longer inhale, nor exhale through his nose. He was scared stiff. 

« Virgil? » Raegan's concerned tone hardly reached his ears as he covered them in fear. « Virgil, what is happening? » of course there was no response. But Raegan either thought it was because he was too afraid to talk, or his state didn't let him talk. He tried to lock eyes with him, to see if somehow they could communicate, but little did he know that the boy in front of him was unable to talk  _and_  was panicking because he didn't know what he was going through. The only sound that went out of his mouth was the wheezing of his breathing becoming even more persistent as time passed and as anxiety grew into them.

Raegan reached for his friend as Virgil crouched down, embracing himself, arms almost touching his knees, frightened eyes wide open and anguish starting to swell up in his chest. He did not know what was going on, nor did he know how to stop, the only thing he was aware of was that he was quickly getting worse, he couldn't control his own breathing, he couldn't control his whole body, he felt miserable. He couldn't help his own self and he was just terrified. He felt like he was choking. This was it. 

« Oh my goodness, Virgil! » Raegan did not realize what kind of situation he got them into, panic started to set into him too, but as a prince would do he reminded himself that in alarming situations he needed to stay calm for the both of them: he needed to find a solution, to act fast. He tried to grab his attention by calling his name multiple times, never getting a reaction. 

So he attempted to concentrate all the composure in his voice « Hey, buddy, can you hear me? » and he didn't get a single response. Not a twitch of the hand in his direction, no sign with his head. Oh dear, this was bad and it was all his fault. He chocked back the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes because of the stress and the guilt. « I will help you move, okay? Bear with me, please. You'll be okay. » his voice cracked at the end of the sentence, which sounded more like a reassuring to himself than to the other. He  _was_ going to be okay, he was gonna do this, he knew he could. « I promise. »

First of all, Raegan slowly pushed his knees down, so Virgil could go back to his previous sitting position, then he lightly grabbed his wrists and proceeded to lower his arms, showing how his face had gone even paler and sweaty. He accompanied the arms down to his sides and then helped him sit up straight against the tree behind them. Raegan felt a sense of relief as he noticed Virgil's breathing starting to ease up, he now believed in both of them more than before, he was sure he had this. But of course, he wasn't quite there yet. The boy's chest was still visibly going up and down at non-regular speed.

Raegan paid attention not to touch him in any risky spot as he encouraged him to look at him in the eyes: that was the first time he had noticed how different the two irises were from one another, bronze and emerald bind together. He made sure Virgil was focused on him as he spoke. « I need you to try to follow me, okay? » even though there was still a tone of worry in his voice, for the first time he got a slight nod from the other kid « Good, we're going to slow it down. I need you to be patient and relaxed. »

He settled down right in front of him, fixing his gaze on Virgil's face. He mirrored the boy's movements and was able to coordinate their breathing; the first thing he did afterward was to inhale a tick slower, then he did the same thing while breathing out. He kept doing this until Virgil would match him, then he would slow down again and repeat the cycle till he was finally properly breathing again.

They sit there for a couple of minutes to ease up from all the tension that was brought by the previous circumstances, Virgil had closed his eyes while Raegan had gotten all cuddled up next to him, still on alert in case it happened again.

« I have no idea what that was. »

« It never happened before? »

« No. I don't like it. » Virgil knew it wasn't a normal response to some running around, even for someone who wasn't used to do that.

Silence fell between the two as they were both filled with the void of ignorance on the matter, not knowing if they had to worry that much or if they had to wait more. The innocence of two children.

It wasn't long until Raegan broke the peaceful moment.

« I'm sorry. » he looked down at his feet and felt the same guilt from earlier building up again, it was him that insisted on chasing after an incredibly agile animal, for a moment he didn't look back at his best friend, he felt wrong because he now believed his friend would think he didn't care. What if now he'd stop playing with him or spend time with him or-

« What for? »

« Uh? »

« You said you were sorry. Why? »

Raegan wasn't sure he had understood. « For clearly hurting you? Or scaring you to death? I don't even know where to start! » it was so obvious he failed to get why Virgil wasn't blaming him in the first place.

« You didn't know. I didn't know. Plus you helped me recover. » he turned to his sorry friend and gifted him with a reassuring smile, to which the other responded to the same way. « Now that I mention it, how did you know how to ...? » Virgil made some gestures as he did when he didn't know how to explain himself, which was kind of adorable.

« One of the children at the orphanage had been crying for half an hour one day and was unable to stop, so I saw one of my oldest brothers walk up to him and doing the same thing I did. » Virgil tilted his head while Raegan was staring at a fixed point in front of him, as if he was spacing out, then he displayed his best impression of a 17 year old that sounded more like an old man and pointed his finger at the tree ahead of them « And he told him to  _man up, boy, you got some dishes to clean!_  »

Both of them burst out laughing at that, as the impression was so good and yet so terrible it sounded perfect.

« Did he do the dishes then? »

« Nah, I had to do them. » Raegan sighed so profoundly at the memory he shook his head, that altogether caused Virgil to laugh even more.

The comfortable silence fell back on them after some more goofing around, memories flying in their minds of other events, but they chose not to revive them with spoken words.

Then they remembered as their gaze fell on Virgil's cape.

« What would you do if you were an actual prince? » Raegan was caught off guard by the other's question, but that surely was an interesting argument. Being part of the royalty in their minds meant being able to do anything, you'd have magicians at your side, the possibility of changing the rules whenever you wanted, what was there not to do?

« I'd probably order my whole kingdom to have desserts at every single meal. Anyone who'd get caught not eating cake would get arrested and executed in the main square. »

« Woah, drastic. »

« But there'll be cake hour ... »

« Cake hour. » Virgil repeated, amused at his friend's idea.

« Cake hour, Virgil. It's important. » Raegan warned him as if it was the first priority in their lives.

« Why don't we have a cake hour at school? »

« Now that's a nice question! »

Their cake discourse, sadly, was abruptly interrupted by the distant chime of bells: they looked at each other with a panicked expression, that was the sign that the royalty of Arcadia and Tinfea had arrived at their village and all the 10-year-old boys had to show up before them. And Raegan and Virgil were still in the forest, dirty and bruised. They were dirty, bruised and also late. They immediately got up and decided to walk with wide steps in order to be as fast as they could and to prevent the whole breathing issue to present again.

After Raegan had helped Virgil up, before he could do anything the little knight wrapped his arms around his friend, who was taken aback by the sudden hug, but didn't hesitate to return it immediately. Virgil murmured a soft “thank you”, still uneasy from before.

They filled their way to the center planning whichever lie they were gonna say once they got back: they were chased by a giant animal and got hurt, scared and had to hide away for a while. It wasn't like either of them was gonna be the prince they were looking for anyway, they were just two kids in a tiny village. It wouldn't have made any sense.

Or so Virgil thought.

 

 Patton felt another wave of excitement as he checked the new kids he had to examine from a distance; he held his drawing close, the tips of his fingers brushing lightly against the margins of the paper. He sensed the portrait of the lost prince nearly weighing against his chest. He took a deep breath as the king and queen received the last regards from the village's inhabitants, Logan at his side gave him a reassuring nod, despite being a tad nervous himself: he felt like he had already seen the place somehow, like it held some kind of familiar trait he couldn't quite put his finger on, it was frustrating.

They were about to begin when a couple of women and a man ran towards the group and made their way through the crowd of villagers that wanted to assist the scene. The woman that was dressed like an orphanage caretaker was the one to speak, deep worry in her words « Please accept our apologies, but two of our village's kids are missing, we have been looking for them anywhere but they can't be found! »

« Oh my, is that so? »

« Yes, » the man paced forward « one of them is my son, I believe they went into the woods and we are afraid they got lost, or worse ... » he refrained from ending his own sentence, the worst case scenario he didn't want to cross his mind.

They were about to ask for help when the king stared into the distance and pointed right behind the people in front of him « Could they be your children? »

Sighs of relief set onto everyone as the three villagers smiled, but soon after a look of horror painted their faces as the appearance of the two ashamed kids came into view: they saw the dirt, the spots, the rips, and the  _blood_.

At the same time, one boy's mother yelled "Goodness gracious, Virgil!" while one of the orphans cried out "big brother!" as a couple of adults and Virgil's parents ran towards them.

The mother hugged his son fiercely, not caring about smearing her clothes with blood and the dirt on her child's clothes, while his father helped him to walk over to the sovereigns, Raegan on the other hand, looking better than his friend, received multiple scolds by the caretakers for being too careless.

After they had reached the crowd, Virgil and Raegan personally approached the royalty and bowed down to them in an apologetic manner, at which the two monarchs softened up enough for them to get closer and kneel down in front of them.

« Straighten up kids, you don't need to feel sorry, I would've probably done the same if I had been you. » the king snickered and did a quick wink at them.

The queen ruffled their hair with a sweet smile, she appeared so tender it didn't even feel real, all the social class boundaries were broken as her motherly instincts acted up.

Then she turned to Logan « Can you perchance heal these bad-looking wounds? »

The mage slightly bowed at them and walked up to the kids with a smug look on his face « I can do even better, madame. »

So the two Arcadian rulers stepped away and gave the boy his own space to practice the spell: Patton could see it was completely different from the curse he had placed on him.

This time the lights around him were light blue, almost white, he drew a sinuous symbol with no sharp edges, not like the one he had seen. Logan didn't have to pronounce any formula, instead, he duplicated the symbol and commanded it to fly up above the two boys; and just like that, the symbols started to lightly crumble in little particles that looked like stardust on them. Once it was finished they looked perfectly refreshed, fine clothes and clean faces, they looked like they didn't enter the forest at all.

Raegan and Virgil both stared at their hands, then at each other with astonished expressions and faint smiles.

But there was something else, the familiar sensation had strengthened upon seeing the two boys more clearly, upon having them so close in front of him ... could it be? He locked eyes first with the orphan, then with the other child, he examined their facial features so long silence fell into the place: the kids started feeling uncomfortable, did the spell do something weird to them? Were they going to turn into trolls? Still, Logan's apathetic gaze fixed on them didn't help them ease up.

The seer turned to the royalty after a careful study of the two « Patton, could you assist me for a moment? »

Something hit hard Virgil's heart. Wait, what? They were actually getting checked up? Or was this only protocol? Had they already gone through the other children? It couldn't possibly be one of them, Virgil was sure about who his parents were, and he was certain that Raegan ... well, he was his best friend, it's not like he'd turn out to be a prince and out of nowhere get ripped away from him. They were just village kids. He tried to repeat this sentence into his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself as panic rose back into him.

Patton had come closer with a warming smile that almost calmed Virgil completely down; he held out his drawing in front of him as he compared the picture first with Virgil, then with Raegan.

When his eyes widened. Logan understood immediately what was off about that place by the behavior of the prince of Tinfea.

Patton locked eyes in awe with Raegan, who somehow felt the need to straighten his posture, he felt like he was being judged by everyone. With the corner of his eyes, he could see his best friend's almost pained look.

He couldn't breathe when Patton turned his back to him to face the sovereigns.

Patton couldn't contain his smile. « Your majesty, » his solemn tone was the only thing filling the village's air, everybody was holding their breath. Raegan's heart skipped a beat.

« We found him. »

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for reading up until here and to anyone who will leave kudos, comments, bookmarks or subscriptions! (Also the silent readers, I love you regardless.)  
> I honestly can't believe I've finally posted this, literal months have passed before convincing myself to try out writing in English and this came out.
> 
> As you may have noticed, English is my second language, so there are probably a bunch of mistakes and weird phrasing, but this is my first attempt and I promise I'm trying to get better. 
> 
> I'll admit I'm a bit anxious since it's my first time trying out a lot of things here but I still hope you guys enjoyed!  
> There's a slight chance I will update in a week, but I can't promise you anything since May is coming and I will be drowned in tests.  
> Until then, I'll see you guys soon!


	2. False Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or of how the author wrote almost 10k words so they had to split up the chapter, Virge is sad, Ro loses things like Cinderella, Lo is done with life and Pat just wants p e a c e for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings for this chapter:  
> -mention of death  
> -mention of fire
> 
> Tell me if I missed anything, enjoy!

_❝ Remember me, though I have to say goodbye._

_Remember me, don't let it make you cry._

_For even if I'm far away I hold you in my heart._

_I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart.❞_

 

 

They did not hear it.

It was no kind of sound conceived for human perception. No kind of delicate melody to be appreciated. No kind of deafening cacophony to be maddened by.

None but the creatures of the sky would sense that crash like shattered glass, none but the creatures of the lakes, the rivers, the seas and the oceans would be troubled upon hearing the forming of an unfading damage in the poor boy's eyes and heart both.

They did not hear it, because when he started breaking down the queen was running toward her son to embrace him fiercely in her arms. They did not hear it because when he let out his first sob the king was tearing up, a hand covering his mouth, repeating “Roman” over and over until the name didn't make sense anymore.

Who the hell was even Roman?

They did not hear it because when he started lamenting under his breath, the crowd went loud with cheering. They did not hear it because the royalty began thanking everyone while he felt hopelessly still and incapable to move.

It was when he understood they were leaving that Virgil found a will to take action as Raegan- Roman? Paced toward the carriage, held endearingly by his parents, the sovereigns of Arcadia, about to disappear forever. An unbearable scene to watch.

They heard him, though, when their cheering was abruptly interrupted by the loud and heavy steps he took while running past the guards. They heard him when he pushed Logan and Patton aside to get to his best friend.

He was not going to leave him alone. They couldn't do that to him. They didn't have any right to rip away people from his life.

They heard him when he yelled as the guards held him still, because they, too, stopped moving in shock.

What he did not hear, though, was the complexion of Roman's feelings ever since he heard the news. First came disbelief, then he looked at Virgil and all he could see was pain. Then everything around him suddenly felt like family, something warm and loving making its way deep down in his guts for the first time in forever. He saw smiles and tears.

He was torn apart.

It felt wrong and right at the same time when he accepted his mother's affection, lacing his arms around her chest and burying his face on her upper sleeve as he felt his own eyes prickling with tears. He had little to no memory of his childhood, but surely her posture was familiar and he could almost see his father's demeanor in himself. It was his family, who came for him after seven years of believing he was on the unimportant side of the fairytale.

His thoughts got hazy when nostalgia already appeared in him, but excitement quickly took place as his parents held his hands and led him to the ostentatious carriage.

Wait. Discomfort set back on him.

He had just sat down and touched leather when noises other than the distant cheers filled up the air. Silence. Sudden pained protests, distressed sounds and afterwards the boys from Tinfea hopped on with sour expressions, as if they had just witnessed something they very much disliked.

Then Virgil broke free.

He lunged toward his best friend as Roman leaned out of the carriage; instinctively they both reached out for each other, waiting for their distance to shorten as much as it could. Roman had to at least wave him off properly.

Roman had so much on his mind he felt like his mind had gone blank, the only things he was certainly sure of were his surroundings, it was as if he had completely forgotten about the outside world and everything he had gone through up until that moment. He had no idea how he could have possibly forgotten how Virgil could have felt about the whole inconceivable situation. As a result, their last conversation ended up being fragmentary and disconnected.

« Virge- »

« Raeg- »

« I'm sorry, I'm- I don't- »

« What are- Where are you going? »

« Please, listen to me. »

« Get down from there! Just … come back- »

« Virgil. »

« It can't be you … »

« You're my best friend. I will- »

When Virgil thought he finally had a good grip on the other's wrist, a pissed off and impatient coachman decided it was the best moment for his horses to gallop away and ride back to the palace. Roman's hand abruptly slipped away from Virgil's, the last thing the village boy heard from the newly prince was a startled gasp, the last thing he saw was his eyes wide with melancholy.

Then he looked at his palm: the last thing that touched him. To his astonishment, he found Roman's bracelet, the one he had ever since he arrived at the village, it was a wide golden ring with an emerald attached to it and not even the goldsmith had any idea where it could have come from. It was the only material thing remaining of him, not the sight of his messy curls, or of his bright smile, nothing of his shiny persona.

Only gold and emerald. Like his hair and eyes glowing under the sun. He decided to hold onto it and keep it safe in his pocket. So he was still there somehow, huh?

Virgil had been silent for quite a while, all around him the world seemed to stop. None dared to speak up or approach him. None but his father. The man placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder and that sole touch was enough for his son to abruptly turn around and hug him fiercely. He did not know what to tell him, he couldn't just lie blatantly to him and install false hope in him, creating an illusion that would just break his soul in a million pieces, like the ones he saw in Logan's spell.

What was worrying him more was how Virgil wasn't responding to any of his chaos of emotions, he was just gripping his father's clothes tight as a salvation anchor from the pit of darkness in his chest. His fists were trembling, nails piercing through the fabric. No talking, no crying desperately, no yelling in childish sorrow.

They had just taken away his best friend, maybe the truest friend he could have ever asked for.

His mother walked up to them, eyes wide and watery, empathetic, a hand pressing to her lips, the other on her husband's arm. The same perplexity instilled in her.

Flashes of the rest of his childhood played in Virgil's head, making it harder to repress the hiccups. He couldn't get anything of that back, he couldn't …

Then one last image of Roman flashed in his mind, the one moment in which they looked at each other for the last time, in which the tips of their fingers were about to slip away for god knows how long. When the carriage started to move away from the village. He finally remembered there was a line he didn't register until that moment. One last message from Roman. A pledge. One he could stick to.

“I will come back to see you. I'll be- I'll be back. I promise.”

And it hit him. Harder than a sky falling on him. More blistering than a thousand burning phoenixes.

First a sob, then the earliest tears started flowing, his cheeks wet with salt and pure sadness, an uncontrollable shaking possessed his body without any intention to cease.

His crying grew louder with the more images and thoughts that gathered in his head, oppressing with darkness all the glimmers where consolation could shine through.

Virgil's mother kneeled down to be at eye-level with him, concern and understanding in her expression. She was cautious with him, attentive touches successfully failed to trigger worse reactions from her son; she clasped one of their hands together firmly. _I'm right here._

Virgil stepped an inch away from his father, where he actually wanted to bury his whole being into.

He was still sobbing, eyes previously tightly shut opened just an instance, his face towards his mother, a silent call for help. She wiped away the nearly dry tears. _You're not alone._ She pushed him against her and picked him up, his face in the crane of her neck, while her hand caressed his hair and back, slowly soothing the hiccuping boy.

The family made their way through the crowd, where other orphan kids stood, silently crying, all types of villagers let them pass with compassionate expressions. Their acquaintances kindly approached and they both offered sad smiles; they could not perceive how tough it would be for a young boy like Virgil to lose someone close to him so suddenly. One of the most precious things you own as a child, ripped away out of nowhere.

The Royal Guard decided their job was done and that they could finally march away from that gloomy uncomfortable silence.

Virgil built up the courage to lift his heavy head a little, his nose and eyes barely emerging, he watched the guards leave as he himself was being carried to his home. He watched them prepare to go back to the palace, the same palace that Roman was going to live in for the rest of his life, the same palace that Virgil could not ever even think of brushing.

He held onto the last sentence he heard from him, firmly believing its every word and letter both. He repeated it in his mind until Roman's voice got stuck in his head like a mantra.

Little did he know that years would pass and hopelessness would come after him, deeper with each day, the sinking feeling getting worse as the seconds ticked.

It was all a lie. An older and more mature Virgil would have known better than to waste his time having useless high hopes.

But present Virgil, a child nonetheless, does not know this. He's still a believer.

And he does not know that Roman will never come back.

 

« How did it happen? » the ride back to the palace surely wasn't entirely silent.

It began with uneasiness set in every present person, coachman excluded since apparently he had better things to attend to than engage in a conversation full of emotion, questions and discoveries.

What had just happened with the villager kid left Roman staring down for a whole five minutes in a state of catalepsy, Patton tried his best to suppress the urge to pull him in a tight hug, which he seemed to need very much at the moment. But he was unreachable, tucked between his newly found parents.

He still gave him an empathetic look; Logan at his side too was far from comfortable, shifting in his place from time to time, he only looked out of the window to find pleasure in the beauty of nature once they had reached the charming forests Arcadia was famous for.

The queen, on the other hand, started soothing his son as soon as she sat down, drawing circles in his back with her open hand. Her motherly instincts knew better than to rub salt in the wound, she let him process what had just happened, giving him space and time to adjust to this new situation he apparently belonged to years earlier.

The king was patiently waiting for his son to speak up, to be the first to gain the courage to break the silence, it being to complain, be happy or whatever else was not important. There was time.

Time in which Roman started to feel better and finally looked up, to be met with Patton's shiny and encouraging eyes in front of him. He turned to glance at both his parents, a blank expression that only transpired confusion.

« Why? » was the only thing he let out in a murmur.

Taken aback, the queen battered her eyes for a moment before speaking. There was a slight clutching feeling in her chest. « What are you referring to, darling? »

« Myself. » his index was pointing himself. « Why is it me? How did you find me? Just ... what ... how did it happen? » there wasn't accusation in his words, they didn't sound bitter, more like curious, he was confused and wanted help to put some pieces back together.

And, of course, he asked the right people: Patton and Logan shared a worried look, what Roman was asking about was exactly the topic none dared to even cross their mind in Arcadia; surely he was their son and had all the right to know about the unfortunate episode, since it involved him in the first place, but he was still pretty young to be told such a cruel story.

Still, the king and queen had already decided it didn't matter, they were going to treat their only son as an equal about that particular topic, there was no need to sweeten the pill: he had to know the threats that he could have to face once he was going to be king. And they couldn't let out the possibility that something similar might happen again.

« Let me tell you a story, Roman. » the king was already interrupted by the boy, who had his hands up.

« Wait, is that- is that my real name? »

« Why yes, of course. Roman Bia. Do you not like it? »

« I do! It's just ... weird? » he made a face, disappointed by his choice of words « Everybody called me Raegan at the orphanage. » he admitted, voice lower with a veil of sadness over it.

His mother's expression softened as she put a hand on his shoulder « Would you like to keep that one instead? »

Well, that was a choice he had never considered probable, they even got Logan's attention with that suggestion: the mage had never known that was a thing royalty could do. Change someone's name? Unlikely, sure they had titles they preferred over their own names sometimes, but a completely different one was very rare. If not nonexistent.

Roman pondered the question for a while, going through everyone's face with glances, maybe looking for some kind of answer, which one was the right one? Which one did he like better? Which one fitted him? Did he want to stick to his fake past or his real present?

« I think ... I'll actually go with Roman? »

« Is that a question or an affirmation? » his father asked, clearly amused by the sight, his pensive son taking so seriously a simple query. Did he think they were testing him? Was he uncomfortable around them?

The way he responded, though, impressed the four of them all « I think it is only fair I keep using my real name, it's like going back to my true self, in a way, right? And it is fair to stick to what my parents have chosen for me. »

In awe, the only thing the King thought of doing was pulling his son in a tight hug, a smile quickly forming in his face.

« Very good thinking, Roman. » Logan finally dared to speak, then he leaned in to get a bit closer to him « But remember, what seems fair sometimes is not congruent with what you actually want for yourself, which is not to ignore. »

Roman battered his eyes, hardly understanding the point the seer was making, so Patton set in to intervene, pulling his friend back with a chuckle « He's just ten, Lo, I don't think he understands. » he then proceeded to show his brightest smile to the sovereigns « Please, carry on with your conversation. »

The queen offered another bright smile and they both thanked him.

« As much as Logan's argument was important as much as it was interesting, we'll have to postpone it for another day. » the King continued, receiving a bow of the head from Logan.

« Back to the story. You probably know that, as of now, our kingdom is the wealthiest one compared to the other four. » Roman nodded, remembering what he was taught in school.

« There's a common legend that affirms that Arcadia is a land blessed by the Ancient Gods, who swore upon protecting it from every harm. Sadly, it is definitely not the case. There has been one particular night, in which our peace was disrupted: a young man had shown up at our castle, somehow avoiding the nightly sentinels we always keep around, he started a fire at the Throne Room, black unnatural flames were surrounding every tangible object. The flames managed to reach our room and we had servants to escort us out. »

« They didn't let me keep you. » Roman's mother remembered, a wave of sadness filling her voice. « In my arms. They were afraid we would all get hurt in panic. Then the unimaginable happened. » the boy was staring wide-eyed at the woman, expectant. « That wizard had appeared out of nowhere between us, I remember vividly how he garroted the servant who was carrying you in a split second. I feared the worst, but the servants were faster and immediately got us out of there. We screamed for your name, struggled to get back to you. But they believed our safety was more important. » she shuddered remembering the metal wire surrounded by odd neon green flames that made the cerulean eyes of the mad man flicker with insanity. Even the dark messy hair had seemed to change colour with that light.

« Nonsense. » the king continued « How could they think a child, you, wasn't just as significant? Eventually the best of our kingdom's mages showed up to clean up after the mess that awful man left behind, even the sovereigns of Tinfea came running to our rescue and if I remember correctly they had brought these two boys too. » he gestured to Logan and Patton, who simply smiled and stated that they were only six and seven but remembered perfectly that night.

« We were devastated since we could not find you anywhere, but when we eventually gave up, believing you were lost forever and that that fiend might have taken away your life too, it seemed fate wanted to give us another chance. » Roman's father's eyes shifted to the mage « A very young Logan had a vision out of the blue. He saw the sorcerer taking you in his arms and disappearing with a smirk on his face. Then he saw you, dropped in the middle of a forest, in the dark, dirty and bruised from the fall. »

« I believe it was the one you came out of earlier. » Logan interrupted, remembering that weird sense of familiarity as they had stepped into the village. It had given him a headache.

« Precisely, but of course, being from Tinfea, he had no clue where you could have been. But the most important thing was that we were sure you were alive and out of that bad guy's way. You had barely learned to walk in the past few months ... »

« Also, » Roman's mother continued, a smile tugging at her lips. « that seven-year-old Logan tried his best to explain what he saw, but the poor little boy was far too young to endure visions' powers already, so- »

« Please refrain from mentioning that particular. »

The woman ignored him. « -he fainted after working himself too hard. »

Roman looked at the seer, who now had placed two fingers on his forehead to sustain his head and prevent anybody to directly look at his eyes. « Why would you be ashamed of passing out? »

« Because it underlines my incapacity at the time of grasping the concept of my abilities. »

And for the second time, the little one was left with little to no understanding of the boy's way of talking, just why did he have to sound like that? Was he trying to impress someone?

« Oh, he still does that. » Patton jokingly commented, the others' amused eyes fixated on him. « He still pushes his every limit and risks his well-being almost daily, he doesn't even listen to me! » he lightly shoved his friend with one hand.

Logan made a face that silently yelled _can you not?_

Between laughs and scolds about taking care of yourself and how the mage wasn't exactly a good example or role model, Roman started to feel more at home and pleased by the new company he was having.

The two young boys in front of him properly introduced themselves as Patton Pàis, prince of Tinfea, and Logan Diànoia, seer, mage in training and future advisor of the king of the same reign. They were only thirteen and fourteen and yet those titles made them sound so solemn already.

Roman began to participate in their conversations more often, he desired to get to know them and let them, too, know what he had been up to for the whole period of time their contact was lost; Roman talked about the orphanage, how it worked and how they had treated every kid kindly and with dedication, how all the children he met were different and yet they felt like part of the same family altogether, he talked about the school, the subjects, all the interesting things he found out with either learning or reading, all the little friends he made in the playground.

He talked about the forests, nature itself, about the woodworker of the village, he didn't even skip all the times he got in trouble for running around with ...

He talked about ...

When his face darkened with negative feelings he couldn't give a proper name to, both his parents reached up to him, one of them asking what was the matter: he only looked up at them after a second he used to weigh his words, then he spoke with a feeble voice, uncertainty wandering around in his mind and prickling his thoughts with indelicate thorns.

« When will I be able to meet Virgil again? » innocent and expectant eyes looked up at the king.

« Oh, honey ... I'm not sure. » _Never._

He couldn't bear to see Roman's expression saddening. « But I'm certain it will happen very soon. »

_Liar._

This time, the believer was the little prince. Because he didn't yet know of all the time that was going to get ripped out of his hands by his brand new duties as a young prince. A young prince that, though, hadn't had any kind of education as such, truly a loss if they didn't force him to do accelerated and additional lessons, that were all about simply existing, but you had to do it _royally_.

Roman was unaware of all that, he just stepped out of the carriage to be met with a chimerical landscape, so much that he felt like his vision was foggy with the dreamy aura that the place sent off; he let himself wander until he reached a gate of white material that sparkled when hit by the sun; it was guarded by a myriad of knights in gold and red armors, all too identical to tell one from the other.

In the distance, in front of the longest and most decorated garden he could have ever seen, he could spot the majestic construction of the Royal Palace of Arcadia, it stood imposing, its size seemed frightening even from a wide distance, but it looked also inviting. The boy was tempted to run as fast as he could, at the cost to feel his lungs burning, if it meant he could reach the place, _his new home_ , in no time.

As he was slowly approaching the first statues around him, kindly encouraged by the Guards around him, his parents decided there was another pressing matter which felt far more important, at this point in our story.

It was the exact thing Logan had predicted, of course he had been right.

« The moment we'll step out you will be taken back to your home kingdom, we wanted to tell you something first, of major importance. As you may know, we had assured we would have promised our son to whoever found him, once he'd reached eighteen. »

« Sir, I … » Patton didn't know how to act, he perfectly knew what was coming, as his friend did, judging by the way they shared the same look.

« We wanted to inform you our Roman will be engaged to you, obviously. Patton, your parents had already agreed on the marriage, but we will very soon give an official statement to the public. »

« I am honored, but I don't think it will be necessary- »

« Please Patton, let us be honored. We're noticing how you're growing up to be a magnanimous person, let alone a future kind-hearted king. And if we could unite Arcadia and Tinfea, the occasion would be thoroughly accepted. You have done so much for us, we owe you. »

Patton was taken aback by the seriousness of their words and the fondness of the sovereigns. He felt like he was getting too much credit for the little he did.

« But you don't … have to … I mean- » he stuttered, trying to find the right words, but their gazes, fixated on him, made sure he almost felt the need to comply.

Why couldn't he just make decisions for himself? Why did he feel the need to crumble under the weight of the curse? He couldn't just possibly refuse and explain that the reason why was … some sort of dark magic.

He sighed almost imperceptibly so that he didn't sound like he was struggling inside. « It'll be my pleasure to accept your decision. » he theatrically offered, bowing his head a little.

« Then it's settled. » the sovereigns were smiling brightly as they gave their farewells to both of the boys.

Patton didn't notice Logan hitting the back of the seat with his head, a hand covering his eyes as if he was having a headache, because he himself was too busy trying to distract himself from the noise in his head which was simply his own voice screaming at him for being too stupid with his choices.

Then again, he wondered why he couldn't make decisions for himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I came back from the cave!  
> Okay so school killed me but it's finally summer vacation so I have three months of absolute nothingness, I tried to write between tests and interrogations and I ended up writing too much for a single chapter, so the next one is coming up very soon. Give me one to two weeks!  
> Now that I got out all the surnames for the main four bois, I felt like explaining all of them since they may sound pretty odd:  
> -Moros is the son of the Goddess of the night, Nyx, and he's the personification of inevitable and impending doom. I liked the dark aura.  
> -Bia means brutal strength, I was studying ancient greek tragedy when I found this word and it inspired me.  
> -Pais means boy, son (and also slave but we're leaving that out) and it fit with Patton also because of the alliteration.  
> -Dianoia is a word used in ancient greek by Democritus, Plato and Aristotle and is linked with reasoning and one's way of thinking. (It's actually more complex than that but yeah) 
> 
> Now that you saw how much of a nerd I am for this kind of things it is time to thank you all so much for the bookmarks, kudos and every single person who read up until here! Comments are very much appreciated especially for criticism!!  
> In case you wanted to keep up with me, my twitter is norgeluk while my tumblr is purp-man  
> Love you all!


	3. Time and again boys are raised to be men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up isn't easy for anybody. Especially when you're the new around, when you feel like you lost everything or when it seems you have the world against you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or of how the author projects just a tiny bit into a certain aspect of one of the characters.  
> Be careful cause there's a lot of angst in this one.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> -Mild cursing (there's just one cuss word)  
> -Minor character death  
> -Negative thoughts  
> -Panic attack  
> -Insomnia  
> -Some kind of selective mutism  
> -Toxic parental behavior  
> -Mentions of hallucinations  
> -Food mention  
> -Self-esteem issues and self-deprecation

  _❝ You are broken and callow_  
_Cautious and safe_  
_You are boundless in beauty_  
_With fright in your face ❞_

 

 

The first years through his _“learning how to be a valuable prince”_ had passed, and Roman was already grateful for the castle servants, who seldom sneaked in his room extra food. It wasn't like they were making it too hard for him and basically throwing knowledge at him or expecting him to be a natural and ace every single lesson.

His teachers adjusted to him, they let him take his time and were more than happy to explain concepts more than once.

It was just that he felt like he had to learn how to live all over again: first came posture, back at the orphanage none really cared if you were walking, skipping along the pavement, even running at times.

Here you had to keep your body in a particular position, your head straight, especially among other aristocrats. Your step had to be measured, every part of your body talked for you most of the times.

A step back could mean disdain, fright, a step forward could be interest, trust, a hand towards you is a chance to dance or an offer for a hug.

Roman had met many nobles, apart from the royals from Tinfea, after he came back to the palace; they all wanted to congratulate his parents and meet the famous lost prince. The story they knew was that a naïve servant had let the gates open and he had wandered outside by himself until he got lost for good.

As a child, he liked the attention of numerous people, but how to behave around them wasn't exactly his expertise.

Every time he did something unusual, the strangers would mention how adorable he was. His parents would smile and stroke his hair gently, a sign that, regardless of his inexperience, he was doing a good job.

To help him to get used to it, servants that casually met him in the hallways reminded him of his posture. Eventually, he got there.

While also practicing that, which reminded him to always look up to people and never look down on them, he learnt what kind of behavior he had to keep during meals, which silverware to use, how many servings there were in each meal, which one was his reserved seat.

To make it fun, he established a game between him and his parents: it consisted on guessing the food that was going to be served by the kitchen servants. It was a secret between him and the cook, but he'd occasionally sneak in the kitchen to get a “general idea”, as he liked to call it, of the possibilities. He totally wasn't cheating. Besides, he loved how his parents compared him to a magician every time he succeeded.

They made everything easier for his age, enjoyable even.

Everyday he learnt something new and everyday he was aghast: it happened even as he woke up in his chambers for the first time.

He had been woken up by the gentle daylight of the morning that was peering through the translucent curtains, pulled apart by one of the servants he had seen going around the corridors before going to sleep.

He had tried to snuggle closer to the covers and the pillows, shielding himself from the eventual tasks he had to complete during the day.

The servant had approached him and, with honey-like words, they persuaded him to get up. Only that he was simply expected to sit up on his bed.

Ever since he came to the castle, a servant would meet him in the morning to wake him up, then they'd be helped by a couple more to bring in the room a dressing table with a mirror, a chair, some objects and utensils they needed, meanwhile one of them would look into a wooden case full of rich fabrics that Roman didn't even know to distinguish.

The servants always helped him get up on his feet, they led him to the chair to sit down and they washed his face, his hair got combed and treated with products that made them soft and perfumed. Different types of oils and creams were smeared every day on his skin as they undressed him, careful not to get the night vest dirty.

No wonder they forced him to take a hot bath every night.

When they were done with that he got up, almost completely naked, and they proceeded to help him put on his clothes, which were layers on layers of various types of cloth. He didn't even know all of their names.

He looked at his minute figure on the tall mirror nailed on the wall which was perpendicular to the bed: splashes of red, gold, white and black blinded his sight as he noticed his hair tied at the nape of his neck.

After breakfast he had his first lessons of reading and writing in the library; his teacher was the same one that taught him about the history of their kingdom. She was an old lady with a streak of bright green in her white hair and a perpetual knowing look that made her seem like she had lived as long as the planet had existed. As if she knew everything there was to know.

Roman had always found her somewhat intimidating, which led to an ever-growing respect towards her: in a couple of months he had been able to read fluently and write with little to no mistakes.

The lady was amazed at how he kept practicing and demanding for books narrating fables. To the point that, unable to stop herself, she finally asked.

« What is it that interests you so much? » she lent him the second book that week, she was afraid she would run out of them soon. She made a mental note to send a man to the nearest kingdom.

« They remind me of the village I was in. » he said, eyeing the book cover with enthusiasm.

« How so? »

« I used to make up stories with a friend! » he looked up at her with a warm smile « Father said I'll visit him soon. » he added, excitement in his eyes.

Something sour set in the lady's mouth. She knew better, as always.

She couldn't help but smile back and place her hands her hips.

« Perhaps after you learn a bit of those history lessons I gave you, will you? A prince has to know everything about his kingdom if he wants to rule someday, understood? »

He let out a small huff « Of course, ma'am. »

She pat his head. « That's good. » and, as she stared at his back to check his posture while he walked away, a sad look couldn't help but make its way through her face.

After Roman had mastered all the first lessons, he was taught how to speak properly in the presence of nobles, elders, young people and the plebs in general. It was a surprisingly young servant that helped him, since sometimes it could happen that some wise and skilled enough servants could be “promoted” as teachers for the king's children.

All the letters in front of the prince seemed to swirl around his head and pressing at both sides when he looked at all the different meanings a single word could have. All the different ways that you could say something so that you could be understood by all types of audiences. The best moments were when he used the wrong linguistic register and he ended up talking to a kid the way you would treat an emperor.

At the same time he took up art lessons with that same servant. Roman found out they were not only good at how to behave with someone but they could also make the nicest instant portraits. The first one she did of him, he hanged it right after in his room, on the side of his half-empty bookshelf he asked his parents to bring in after a couple of gifts from his history teacher.

The second reaction was simply a request to teach him how to be as good as them. So they started going out of the palace daily, then into the gardens, to just sit down and draw from reference. He kept trying, transforming nature in swirls of colors and pencil figures.

Before he could say he was pretty good at it, a couple of years would have to pass, but he was content enough with just staying outside and enjoy the artistic point of view his servant offered him.

Twice a week, on the other hand, they stayed inside and flipped through a history of art book, full of pictures and analysis of the paintings or architectures.

Then, there was one of Roman's favorite things: he began sword fighting lessons. A valuable prince needed to have an eclectic knowledge and skills, but most of all if he wanted to protect a whole kingdom, he had to be able to protect himself first.

One of the Royal Guard's knights was lent to teach him; Roman believed he was going to have one of those basic lessons in which you went into the backyard of the castle, out of earshot not to disturb anyone with the clanging noise of metal.

Never in his life he would have imagined to be led into a ballroom and met with a curly dark petrol-haired man and a mischievous smile: he had two perfectly created wooden swords behind his back, like a ninja about to unsheathe his own katanas.

Roman approached the man with a confused yet composed look and when he stopped a few feet away, he held that stare.

The knight's expression shifted to a thoughtful one, never leaving that slight curve of his lips; he saw Roman, a tiny child, refraining from taking his eyes off of him, a well-trained man from the Royal Guard. And he didn't find fear in those honey-like irises, he was expectant. Rigid, but ready.

At this point silence had been enough to still keep her around. The knight threw a sword at the boy with no warning, it was definitely a test for his reflexes.

It was a habit that he always did with his new apprentices, it felt like some kind of superstitious gesture, if the person didn't catch it was probably going to have a lot of trouble teaching. On the other hand if they did …

The knight could only watch as the hilt of the wooden sword flew in Roman's hand, perfectly adjusting to his grip.

_… well, it was going to be fun._

« I like you. »

The prince flashed him a satisfied smile.

The older man got a few steps closer and leaned down, Roman could see the red in his eyes that previously he thought was an unusual shade of brown.

« Shall we dance? »

Always busy with lessons and writing down stories to read to his loving parents, Roman found himself being fifteen, the village and its inhabitants was a distant memory he couldn't have the luxury to think about.

He didn't even realize he stopped asking about Virgil. He didn't realise he stopped thinking about him or the orphanage. It was less hurtful to pretend it all didn't exist than accept he would have never been able to come back. They hated him by now, probably.

His history lessons were so persistent he could now recite all his ancestors' lives backwards. Or in alphabetic order. Or in any kind of order, really. As he let go of the lessons he had mastered, new ones would come up almost instantly and, sometimes, take away even more time than the ones he had before.

Not that he wanted to complain, he'd be exhausted enough to have no trouble sleeping and never waking up a single time in the middle of the night. Which made the actual waking up ten times more challenging.

But most of all, he loved a lot of the lessons he got. Especially singing. You don't know where Roman is and it's time for his daily walk around the front garden's sculptures? He's probably moving around a large room and singing his heart out.

What was frustrating but also very surprising was how good he sang, as if he was a natural, born to entertain those around him with enchanting melodies.

His teacher couldn't believe it the first time he heard him. Soon enough, they had started a duet of voice and harp strings, creating symphonies in every different possible way.

Sometimes they really had to drag him out of rooms to participate to at least thirty minutes of his other teachings, and yes, a prince needs to know about the gods, the pontifex can't do everything by themselves.

Roman walked down the castle's external stairs, as white as the clouds above him, he occasionally thought that maybe there was a spell keeping them so clean and candid.

There was an old sage leading him towards the marble sculptures that ran along the garden's limit. Same impeccable color of the castle.

Nothing got ruined in their royal bubble, it seemed there was an invisible defense around their property. That was were the odd legend of their kingdom came from.

« Remember this one? » the sage, another one of the teachers, pointed to the marble figure they were standing in front of, halfway through the garden.

« Yes. » Roman studied the sculpture, an androgynous-looking anthropomorphic god stared him down, eyes white and empty, they had a crown on their half extended left arm, with bifurcated tips at the top.

The other hand kept their vest up, pressing it on their chest, over their heart. The pattern on it displayed, in a bas-relief, detailed and messy curves and swirls.

« The God of Death, ruler of the Underworld, also called “Dark Kingdom”. That's the reason of the crown. » the old man nodded, satisfied with the answer, but that wasn't where Roman had finished. « The vest suggests the symbol of dark magic, as they were believed to be the First Sorcerer. »

« You could have stopped before … »

Roman arched an eyebrow, it was unlikely for a man like him to be skeptical towards the Forbidden Topic. « I'm not afraid of two words. »

« You're aware of the reason why we refrain to mention it, aren't you? »

« I am. But I don't think it is right to belittle a God, or conceal one of their most important features, only because of a human dilemma. Isn't it impious to bend a deity's description to a mortal rule? » Roman turned back to his teacher, expecting a frown on the man's face.

Instead, the facade the sage was keeping up suddenly fell, only to be replaced by a satisfied and content expression; he pat the top of the boy's head while nodding slightly.

« Very good, Roman. I take you've read those books I suggested? »

The little prince showed a sheepish smile. « I guess I enjoy myths. »

Their conversation went on, the topics somehow brushing philosophy at times, but was soon abruptly interrupted by the loud noise of hooves on the stone pavement between the two sections of the garden.

Their glances turned towards the entrance, where a carriage was let in through the gates.

Both prince and sage straightened their postures and waited for the mysterious person to show themselves. They didn't expect a boy around Roman's age to come out of the carriage, all dressed up as an obvious piece of nobility, by himself.

As he got closer, Roman could notice the sneering look that engulfed him, red hair almost looked like fire under the hit of the sun rays.

The boy stopped a few feet away from them, then bowed down. « I am Desmond Ananke, marquis of the kingdom of Elis. » when he looked up, he found himself transfixed by those pitch-black eyes, as dark as a moonless night, or the moment right before your eyes adjust to the blackness of a room.

He felt dizzy for a second, was that even natural? Magic?

He came back to life when he felt the sage's hand being placed on his shoulder, when he looked over to the teacher he surprisingly found a sour expression. Roman decided to just nod at the boy, a cue for him to state the meaning of the visit.

« My parents agreed upon sending me for the monthly donation we had planned decades ago. » he turned his head to the older man. « I'm positive you wouldn't mind if I helped myself up the stairs to meet the sovereigns. » a smirk was all he needed to show for the man to understand.

He stayed silent for a few beats, then let go of the prince and stepped aside.

Desmond, before excusing himself, got a closer look to the boy. « So you must be the famous Roman Bia, I suppose. » he held his hand towards him, if he expected a handshake, he wasn't ready for the marquis to take his own hand and place a kiss on the top of his knuckles.

He looked up at him, Roman's hand still close to his lips « Your surname means “brutal strength”. I wonder if your delicacy can contrast that. »

Roman had no clue what that meant, he felt Desmond's stare on him, the warmth his hand was irradiating on his skin and the general discomfort of the whole situation. Was he supposed to answer? Was it a compliment? Did he know …

« I wonder if you're aware our prince is only fifteen and has been promised to the prince of Tinfea for five years by now. » Roman was glad his sword fighting teacher had come to the rescue, he was probably being late to his lesson.

The marquis eyed him, his smile slightly faltered and he carefully snatched his hand away.

Without any further word, he excused himself and began pacing towards the palace.

Roman had retrieved his hand as if he had just touched a burning pot, only that the only fire he felt right under his skin was dancing around his cheeks and ears because of the embarrassment. He looked at the place where the marquis once stood with a confused expression.

What was his deal?

« That motherf- »

« Language! »

« Gods! » the knight put his hands on his face and slid them up on his hair in a desperate gesture. « Stop lecturing me, dad. »

« I am not your father. » the sage gave him a puzzled look while the knight rolled his eyes.

« Maybe when you stop treating me like a child, you won't be. Well! » he clasped his gloved hands together and turned to a silent Roman that was wondering whether or not he should have let them have their moment and leave. « Ready for your lesson, kid? » Roman simply nodded.

They excused themselves from the elder and the knight, Crowley was his name, as he finally recalled, slid his arm around Roman's shoulder in a friendly way, only to lower down a little and speak to him more clearly.

« Look, that guy from before? Bad news. » he made a face. « I'll tell you, just because our kingdom is so awesome, the more outer people try to take advantage and benefit from us. »

« They're envious? »

« That's an understatement, but yeah, pretty much. » Roman felt some kind of burning feeling in his chest.

« Can't they just focus on improving their own kingdom instead of taking things from us? »

Crowley grinned. « Oh, is our prince getting bitter? »

« Hah. Not at all. I'm keeping my cool here. I'm in perfect conditions. » he flashed him a perfectly constructed smile. « See? »

« Sure, my lord. In perfect conditions of pretending, should I call the jester and tell him to call some actors to join you? »

« Oh, gladly, thank you so much. »

As they entered the fighting room, chuckling, they made their way towards their steel swords and started their usual sparring.

« Still, you should know … » the swords kept on clashing with no result. « … that boy from before talked about a donation. »

Roman started to lose some ground. « Yes? I never heard of that. »

« In my opinion, it's stupid. Arcadia has to donate part of our treasure to help other kingdoms. »

« What? » Roman's movements looked even more aggressive, tenacious.

« Apparently, it's the only way to assure they don't move war against us. » he sighed as Roman made a mistake in his posture, but regained it quickly.

« Wouldn't that lead us to eventually fall? It's not like the gods gift us gold every month. »

« That's what I've been saying. And the king's advisor too. They're ruining us anyway, this is only the slower method, the king said. »

« This is ridiculous. » the knight noticed Roman was basically throwing all his hits on him.

« I know, not to mention that marquis clearly wanted to woo you. »

« Woo me? »

« He wanted to marry you, to, of course, get your nobility status from the kingdom's alliance. There's no love there. » Crowley noticed Roman's expression hardening with rage. « Only strategy. » the prince scoffed, annoyed. « Like a mere tool. »

That's when Crowley realized his tactic was working and, in a matter of seconds, he found his sword clattering to the floor. Roman stopped moving, awed by his own doing and looked up to his teacher both smiling widely.

« Well done, kid. » he reached to pat his head, but Roman ignored that and wrapped his hands around him in a happy hug. He literally started screaming of joy.

« Gods, I did it! Did you see that? Did you see how I landed that sword? That was awesome! » he trailed off complimenting himself and pacing around the room, excitement printed on his face.

Crowley, amused, kept on watching Roman's little burst of happiness. Still, he realized it was now time for him to let other lessons take up his time. Like …

« Courting. This guy needs to learn courting. »

He was sixteen when it happened. Roman was enjoying one of the books his literature teacher had recommended, sitting at the library's table. He loved those lessons and was waiting for them to start.

His eyes lit up when he heard the door opening, but he never expected to find one of his servants and a gloomy expression. They approached him and took his hand while watery eyes threatened to start tearing up.

« Crowley is dead. »

That was the last thing he heard before zoning out, his heart sank and he felt numb; his hearing stopped working, it was as if the servant was talking to an inanimate object. They continued talking about how he died while helping a kingdom in a battle and was found lifeless, but Roman's mind couldn't process any more information.

_Crowley is dead._

He could still see his mischievous red eyes in the corner of his own, now covered by a tragic and dark veil, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something but there was nothing else to say at the same time. It was written all over his face.

_Crowley is dead._

The servant brought him back to consciousness by touching his shoulder, the memory of his teacher doing the same burned in his mind, tears welled up in his eyes and found the strength to sprint away from a startled servant and run down the castle halls.

_Crowley is dead._

He knew who he was looking for. His sight was clouded, making it harder to recognize his surroundings. He didn't care he was running, he didn't care his sobs could have been audible from outer space. He received concerned but knowing looks by anyone he crossed paths with. Then he found the room.

_Crowley is dead._

His trembling hand turned the shiny and cold handle that almost blinded him. After closing the door behind him he rushed over to the person he knew needed comfort the most, just like him.

Roman hugged the sage, Nicephorus, he hugged him tight and pretended they didn't notice each other's red eyes. They also pretended they didn't hear their crying, seemingly unstoppable. Nicephorus pretended he didn't lose who could have seemed like his son, Roman pretended he didn't lose the brother he never had.

You can never judge whether someone's life was happy until it's gone.

Roman was seventeen. He was also finally allowed to make little trips outside of the palace and meet his people: he went mostly around the center, where his parents didn't prohibit him to go. Seven years kept inside the castle, busy with his education and getting to know his parents and kingdom, and everything about the village was now long gone from his mind, a distant memory he didn't dig into anymore.

Saying that he was well recognized by his people was an understatement. The people loved him. They cheered for him when his carriage made its way towards the center's plaza. He'd greet every single one of them, he let them hold his hands, he kissed little children's heads and willingly let them lead him through the city.

He wasn't like those royal people that looked down on the plebs with indifference from their carriages, he enjoyed interacting with others, being able to confront his life with the one of the others.

He often listened to their problems and realized that this type of confrontation helped the royalty greatly in fixing the kingdom's problems for the better; dealing directly with the people that faced issues that could be resolved was one of their best mechanisms.

And not only had he a great relationship with his people, but also the one with his servants couldn't be of any less importance. They were happy to spend time with him when his parents couldn't, as much as he was grateful for them for anything they had done.

People outside stopped believing he was a real prince, how could someone so kind-hearted have no dark feature?

They didn't know about his nightmares, for sure.

Or all the times he felt like he was remembering something of the night he disappeared, only to break down right after, the only comfort being his mother's embrace.

And despite being surrounded by a multitude of loved ones who loved him back, they didn't know about the loneliness he felt when he finally reached eighteen.

« Roman, dear, the Pais family is coming very soon, will you come to meet them? »

Yes, even with a guaranteed fiancé.

Royal courting was weird in their days: the two promised could see each other little to no time at all, preferably spending as less time together as they could. Meals with parents were fine, they even had the luxury to sit in front of each other, talk sometimes, but out of those? One or two hours a day were enough, thank you very much.

So, what the Tinfea and Arcadia families were doing to follow these unfathomable laws was meeting once a year, celebrating one year less to the upcoming wedding.

And now that Roman was eighteen, well, things were only starting to get faster.

« We're going to speed up the preparations with them today, you can finally spend some more time with the lovable Patton, aren't you happy? » his father was at his left as they made their way towards the entrance of the castle.

« Truly charmed. » he mused, not particularly focused on his question. It wasn't like he didn't want to meet him, or thought he wasn't at all an appreciable companion, but the little time they spent together wasn't enough for him. He wasn't even allowed to send letters; their relationship only started as acquaintances and went back to strangers after a couple of months of not seeing each other.

Roman thought that was ridiculously inconvenient for both of them.

« Wait, is Logan going to be here? »

« Honey, of course, he's always been. » Roman made a slightly frustrated pout at that.

« Don't be like that. He's their closest advisor. »

« I know, but I don't like him. He makes me feel incompetent. »

« He's older than you, Roman, it's normal if his knowledge is higher than yours. »

« And you should respect him as such. Then you will get along just fine. »

The prince sighed, he couldn't argue with that. What they always said was that he could at least act like he was glad to have someone as guest.

Furthermore, he loved acting. He couldn't remember how many times he had sneaked out to get to the local theatre to watch actors perform, or perform himself after he made sure none was there.

« Oh, I forgot to tell you! » Roman's mother turned to him, beaming. « This time, they're going to stay here longer. We're going to put into action what Logan had suggested two years ago. »

Well, that was certainly new.

 

* * *

 

 

Patton had often wondered why things were a certain way.

He sounded like a kid when he kept on asking different questions about the subject he was debating with someone.

Why were clouds like that? Are stars motionless? Why is grass green and not blue? How come animals didn't talk, do they even understand us?

As he grew up and reached adulthood, the questions would change into more soul-searching ones.

Does happiness really exist? Is the mind more important than the heart? What's the difference between justice and revenge? When is it required to be selfless and when is it allowed to be selfish?

One time at fourteen he found himself stargazing and wondering if he could even reach the stars one day, that sky glitter that winked and smiled at him every night. He had approached Logan's chamber and ran in the room out of breath, at which a startled seer blinked a couple of times, frozen still, and looked at him with arched eyebrows.

« Hey Lo- » a couple of short breaths. « You're a magician, right? »

A slow nod came from the older boy, whose gears began turning in his head, trying to predict which kind of outcome that conversation was going to lead to.

« So can you fly?! » Pat had clasped his hands together in little fists in front of his mouth and leaned in towards the chair his friend was sitting in.

Logan wondered if he could have either expected that kind of question or if he definitely wasn't aware this scenario could have ever taken place.

Eventually, he decided to get up from his chair and, kindly, escort Patton out of his room, while the prince whined about wanting to reach the sky.

After he closed the door behind himself, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought back an amused smile that was threatening to form on his lips.

Of course, he lost, but in his defense, he was pretty tired.

After the prince's fifteenth birthday, Logan wondered sadly why they had to unquestionably stop attending lessons together; they had less time to spend with each other now that Patton was up to courting lessons most of his day, while he retreated to his room pretty much always to self-teach himself the remaining of magic knowledge. His sovereigns told him he didn't need teachers anymore, they meant to praise him for his own talents at such a young age. But he didn't somehow feel satisfied.

On the contrary, his heart sank when he stopped in front of their closed room and heard that they were actually glad their son was going to spend less time with him and that they couldn't wait to get rid of him.

He stayed silent and moved on.

When Patton reached sixteen, Logan decided he hated feelings.

He hated feelings because he could not conceive his kingdom's rules and what sometimes they did to people, how it changed them and made them treat him from a respectable member to a simple servant undeserving of any kind of attention. He decided to stop showing such feelings as he now found them useless: what could he do with his emptiness? The anger? Disappointment? Loneliness? All the other emotions he didn't want to name? Things that only slowed down his work?

Well, there was one thing he surely could do, which was bury them deep inside and never listen to them again.

And so he did.

At seventeen, Patton was having a mental breakdown. Too many things were happening at once: preparations for the wedding (already, though Roman was still fourteen), the fate of the curse approaching which he tried to ignore, his teenage mood swings, him reaching soon adulthood and the always more persistent lessons. About literally anything.

It was especially the lessons that stressed him out. In one of them in particular, in which he had to learn how to dance but was failing miserably, he concluded it was best to abruptly storm out of the room and take his frustration out on the grass he was stomping as he made a beeline for the flower garden of the east side of the castle.

Stressful tears were prickling his eyes, he carefully wiped them away on his sleeve, growing discontent was spreading inside him since he didn't want to cry, and yet he was too vulnerable to stop himself. Why did he feel so weak?

Patton took a deep breath and made his way through the garden, hands curled in fists at his side, when he eventually had to stop himself once again.

Logan was sitting on the ground, a couple of feet away from him, he was leaning on some flowers, examining them, while some objects – related to magic, Patton thought – were lying all around him.

Suddenly aware of a viewer, his friend- wait, were they even still friends? How long ago was the last time they talked for real?

Patton grimaced, he couldn't even remember that.

Nonetheless, Logan looked up at him with a blank stare, it only faltered for a moment as he noticed the slight redness around the prince's pupils.

They kept staring silently, until eventually the mage broke the silence between them, after he turned his attention back to the flowers he was observing attentively.

« What can I help you with? » there was no real interest in his voice, no signs of concern (although he definitely knew Patton was missing his lesson), the lack of anything bothered the prince in a way he couldn't comprehend. It's like that uneasiness you feel when someone slightly moved everything in your room and you can't tell what has changed.

Patton as well couldn't tell what had happened to make their relationship so different from before.

And maybe it was exactly because of that, maybe because of how much pressure they were putting in him, the expectation of his parents that he could master all his teachings in no time, the absence of the comfort he once found in friendship with his servants, whatever case it may have been, that he found himself dropping on his knees and throwing his arms around Logan's shoulders.

Patton tried to hide his face on the other's robes, tightening his grip as little sobs shook his body.

Whatever grudge Logan could have been holding against him (which, mind you, he didn't, since Patton was just that impossible to despise), he cast that aside and surrounded the younger one's chest with his own arms, hesitantly.

They sat there for a couple of minutes as the prince let out all the displeasure and the other boy just tried to help with soft rubs on his back.

As soon as he felt an ounce of relief, Patton broke the hug and took a deep breath, after muttering an apology.

« I don't know what's happening. To me, or in general. » he sighed, a hand touching his forehead while he looked down.

Since they had basically been ignoring each other, he was expecting a remark, he thought he was going to tell him he was an idiot and it was his fault, he would have believed that.

Instead, Logan nodded. « That's perfectly understandable. »

Patton looked up at him in confusion and disbelief. « How? »

A humming sound escaped the mage's throat. « How about you describe what is bothering you? »

« Uh. » he was looking at the sky, but focusing on his thoughts. « It's like I'm in a cage. Everybody's telling me what to do, what to wear, how to act. Or who I have to talk to. » he looked Logan in the eyes. « When was even the last time we talked properly? » his azure irises darkened in a greyish color. « I feel like I have no friends anymore. »

Logan's heart sank at the words, he knew he was included in that group and he couldn't help but feel ashamed for accepting the distance they suddenly began to keep, instead of doing something about it.

« It is only normal that you're getting badly affected by the situation. Look at yourself, » Patton lifted his hands to observe them. « you're clearly stressed out. Are you getting enough sleep? » there were so many questions he wanted to ask. They barely saw each other out of meals.

« Do I, they expect me to be asleep the moment they escort me to my chamber. »

One problem less ticked off of Logan's mental list.

« We both know your drinking and eating schedules are practically perfect, so I guess this is partially about pressure. Everything at once. »

« Yeah, it's mostly because of this “perfect” you said. Everyone expects me to be perfect, my parents- »

« That's it! » Logan abruptly interrupted, pointing a finger towards the sky, a knowing smile making his way through his face. He dropped the objects he was carefully putting away in his bag.

« Uh? I barely finished … »

« Listen. Don't you think your parents are a bit … too much into this? They have started preparations way ahead of time, they can't stop talking about the wedding's details when neither you nor Roman reached adulthood yet. It seems to me that they want this more than you do. To the point that they don't care about your feelings. » the words tasted sour in his mouth, talking badly about your king and queen wasn't exactly the main topic in a kingdom, but he saw the prince slowly nod in agreement.

It wasn't the first time he had noticed that, either.

« My feelings … yeah, they're definitely messed up. » he found the will to giggle.

After a beat, Logan continued with his reasoning « I can't honestly believe you forgot my most important lessons. » he looked away to open the only vial that was lying on the ground and poured a drop of its content on a dying withered flower that immediately blossomed in a soft pink hue. When he looked back at his friend he met a confused but pensive gaze, mixed with amazement by the little magic trick.

« You're your own person, Patton. You don't have to act like anyone but yourself. Break free of those puppet strings, they're not unbreakable. You can be a prince in your own way. »

Patton showed him one of his brightest smiles, gaining all the inspiration he could have ever possibly asked for. He could still be himself while having lessons or while in front of other nobility members.

« You're right! » he beamed, getting confidently on his feet. He felt like he could take on the world by himself. « Plus, how much can they go against a prince? »

Logan rolled his eyes. « As much as they like if he starts getting full of himself. »

« Aw, come on, I was just kidding. »

They made their way towards the castle's ballroom, while catching up on the things they had been up to in the past year.

Time, of course, flew by in an instant and they were already facing the entrance of the ballroom. They stopped in their tracks.

Patton turned to the magician. « I don't know if a “thank you” is enough. But I appreciate that you didn't reject me being all emotional. » he then shrugged with a small smile. « Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the smallest things. »

Logan shook his head. « You don't have to thank me. I only helped a friend in need. »

The prince almost jumped in joy at the label, it was a sign their relationship wasn't destroyed by outer circumstances, which was what Patton had feared the most. How could he have gotten such an amazing friend? He felt the desire to surround himself with more people like him.

« And remember, if you don't understand something, write it down. Only then it might become clearer. » the seer shared one of the most important pieces of information he could give in order to prevent future breakdowns anytime soon.

Patton considered carefully his words as if he had just found out a glowing treasure, then nodded. « Will do. » he made to turn away, placing his hand on the door's handle.

« Sorry for forgetting what you taught me! » he apologized with a sheepish grin. Logan only chuckled and started to step away, when he got called again.

« And Lo? » he gave him his full attention and suddenly found Patton's hand on his arm.

Patton gazed deeply in his dark eyes. « Please, talk to me more. »

And just like that, he disappeared into the room, resuming his dance lesson with a lighter feeling in his chest.

It was the moment in which Logan felt a colder spot where the prince's hand once was and his cheeks burning red that he decided he hated feelings even more.

At eighteen Patton understood that he could be a bit freer, but his parents wouldn't let it slide so easily. At least not without some guilt trip or psychological pressure.

King, queen, prince and seer (who had also become their personal adviser since they didn't find a way to get rid of him) were sitting on a carriage, seemingly talking about topics of no relevance. But one would know better than believe aristocrats didn't measure their every word, sticking hidden meanings or snide remarks in sentences here and there.

It was their charm, how they could hold a conversation while talking about something completely different.

« Did you hear about this? They say that Roman kid had already caught up with his lost lessons in less than two years, isn't that a prodigy? » their favorite topic was throwing Patton down with their “oh-so-perfect” examples.

They always told him so many things about him, things he wasn't even sure were entirely true. So many voices went around castles. Ever since Arcadia's prince came back, he had been in everyone's words and minds.

Of course, Patton's parents used all the information they could get, thinking they could have been able to attach those puppet strings back to his body.

They tried and sometimes they succeeded in grazing even just slightly his self-worth.

Self-esteem issues weren't late to the party as well.

Patton noticed a pattern in the arguments: they would find anything that didn't please them, blame him and eventually start to criticize him. His looks, his behavior, his intelligence, either the first thing they saw or the first thought that came to their mind.

Initially he apologized as much as it felt fake. But he didn't like lying every time there was a fight, though doing the opposite made the situation worse.

His parents would get frustrated by his silence, the yelling would increase for minutes until they got tired and gave up on him.

So Patton only stared at the marble pavement, his eyes danced around its colored details, a blank expression surrounded his face; when they finally let him free he'd only run back to his room.

After that there were two different outcomes: one would simply picture him crying to let out all of the horrible things they told him, as if he could shake them off and forget about it.

The other would display him lying down with a weird feeling in his guts. It was something that mixed with wanting to fight someone and wanting to fight himself. As if he deserved to feel pain. But the only thing he allowed himself was to think of all the remarks he could have done, if only they didn't make the situation worse.

Many could wonder how he managed to endure the whole thing. Patton had the kindness of his servants to get him through the day, the food they sneaked in every time he left during meals because he couldn't just bear it.

And he had a best friend he could rely on anytime he wanted or needed to vent. Especially when he saved him from annoying situations.

The conversation between his parents continued, their eulogy towards Roman never seemed to stop.

Patton breathed out slow and deep through his nose, he knew the last thing he needed was a reminder of his inferiority complex when he was on his way to Roman.

The funny thing about it was that he couldn't even blame Roman for how he felt, on the contrary the boy was always so sweet and welcoming. It was more how everybody portrayed him to be the perfect prince he could never achieve.

« On the topic of talents. » Logan, the foretold savior, spoke only after giving a sidelong glance to the younger boy.

The sovereigns immediately shut their conversation to Patton's relief.

« Since we are second in prosperity to Arcadia, I was thinking we should value our people more. » he had them hanging on his every word. « Maybe we should organize some kind of event that aims at that specific goal. »

The two adults' faces lit up, ideas flowing in their minds. Every argument on how to somehow be better than Arcadia was valid for both of them, it was the perfect diversion.

« We definitely agree. Please do tell us what you have in mind. »

Instead of going off with one of his explanations, (that often became monologues), he turned to Patton.

« What about you? Would you like that? » a faint smile crossed the prince's lips, ignoring the voices in his mind that said “How can he give his opinion? He understands nothing of it!”

« I would love that, Logan. » he nodded. « It would be ideal for our people to stand out in their specialties. I'd want to know if the best poems ever written belonged to one of our humble and simple villagers. » he stopped looking out the window to glance at his parents' shocked expressions, their mouths left hung open upon hearing his valid opinion. Suddenly they didn't have anything to remark.

He felt something very similar to pure bliss. Then he shifted his gaze to Logan. « Don't you think? »

Pride glimmered in the magician's eyes. « Exactly my thought. We could also participate or just watch, if so you desire. »

« Thank you for your suggestion! » Patton smiled even wider and Logan knew that he also silently thanked him for the attention.

After Logan finished displaying his idea, the sovereigns kept quiet for the whole trip to Arcadia's castle and Patton couldn't have been any more glad about it.

 

* * *

 

 

How could he have been such an idiot?

Hopes and dreams, fake abstract concepts made up only to ruin people's expectations.

What was hope? It only meant relate to the future in a way that will eventually result in experiencing anxiety and anguish, whether it is a happy future you're looking for or a negative outcome that you're fearing. It is never something that helps you relax, but it keeps you in a restless mood, always unsettled because you know you're waiting for something and you're paying very much attention to it.

It is as if you're waiting for a delivery that has even the infinitesimal possibility to get lost into the nothingness. Or waiting for a person that promised to come back, a promise that has a high percent chance to be broken anyway.

But your hopes get in the way and erase any pessimistic belief, without realizing you're actually deteriorating yourself. With hope comes illusion and after that you're only left with pain.

Growing up, Virgil learnt to take nothing for granted and have very little trust in all the people who presented themselves in front of him.

To say that his parting from Roman had been a hard hit for him was an understatement: ever since then, he had never been able to get close to someone just as much or have any friendship quite as strong. It didn't feel worth it anymore.

Everything constantly reminded him of Roman and he just was so tired, he wanted the world to stop.

There had been many attempts by the school's children to get him to cheer up, but every single gesture failed its goal like they weren't even trying hard enough. But they were, when he wandered in the streets the villagers would greet him with a genuine smile on their lips, Virgil would only nod at them, unimpressed by the sudden interest.

Kids had tried to play with him, offered to go spend time in the woods together, but nothing could do. It reminded him too much of him and their memories were the last things he wanted to experience all over again.

He was eleven when hope started to fade out and disappointment took over him, a wave of sadness brushed his feet as strange thoughts began to force themselves into his mind.

These thoughts were the ones that tried to keep him awake at night, they persuaded him to think that it was better to embrace the darkness of the night, in which none would bother him as they all drifted off to sleep.

At first they scared him, so much he tried to scream to throw them away, panic didn't help his breathing problems and every other night his parents were kneeling down in his room, trying to steady him in every possible way.

At twelve, things were getting impossibly worse, because he couldn't help but comply to those musings. The first time, he found himself getting up from the small mattress, a myriad of thoughts screaming at him, so much that he preferred to stay silent, afraid that if he were to part his lips the harshness of howl-like shrieks would escape his mouth and leave him with little to no voice. The second time, he was found deadly still, bloodshot stapled open eyes, in front of the village's town hall at five in the morning by a pair of very concerned and frightened parents.

At thirteen night didn't exist anymore and the fair skin under his eyes slowly faded into a dark and purple-ish tone, he decided it was not worth to have those oniric impossible encounters in dreams or nightmares, even if his sleep deprivation did quite help making the unreal look real during his waking hours. His daylight hallucinations.

He had stopped talking at all, only considering someone when he really thought it necessary, scared they could catch him interacting with the unreal, unable to tell one from the other.

At fourteen he had visited all the doctors and magicians his family could reach, and at times their solutions were too … expensive. Out of the eight of them, there was one that stuck with Virgil, his words often played in his head as a reminder that, yes, something was definitely wrong with him. He couldn't remember his full name, something with Emile … was it? He was the only one that talked about his head. His mind; Emile's eyes had glowed, a light that made him look quite mischievous, though he truly was kind-hearted, and Virgil felt like he was piercing through his soul.

He had told him it was a mess, inside his mind. Virgil could have sworn he had heard a crack in his voice, as if he had been about to cry or needed consolation, after feeling how he did daily; but then again his reality was fake most of the time.

At fifteen the tables turned. Most of the villagers just chose to avoid him. Even if bullying didn't exist in his school, his classmates would have been too scared to approach him. A little part of him was glad he could occupy his mind with all the issues that rained down on him at once, so that he could shove his oldest problem in the deepest part of his heart and never think about it again.

It had been five years.

He couldn't say he was always successful, the best case scenario displayed a train of different thoughts that would suppress the topic he didn't want to think about. But other times … the outcome would destroy his mind.

He had never gotten angry at Roman for disappearing into the void.

He couldn't help but put the blame on himself; for god knows what reason why, he started feeling like Roman had now found better people, what if they had been friends out of pity? Sure, they were good at make-believe, and yet … Roman had never left him alone. He did feel genuine, after all.

There was too much contrast between his beliefs, but somehow he still couldn't help but crumble down in his own self-deprecation. It was none else's fault but his if he never came back. For all that he could know, by now Roman had probably already found plenty of people like him; better than him, perhaps, which wasn't that much of an impossible quest. It wasn't like he had any particular talent or was special in any way, really. Being replaced could have been just as easy even in his small little village.

He was still fifteen when he finally stepped into their forest after 5 years, for some reason he had gotten sentimental and, almost magically, his feet led him in front of the forest's entrance. He was retracing the same path they had followed the last time they were together, the sparkles caused by the sun hitting the water were already blinding his eyes as he stepped down the hill that now looked much smaller than how he remembered.

And then, the one thing that would change his life forever.

He looked at his left and that same fox from five years earlier was standing there, a cold glare piercing him through golden irises, Virgil thought he had lost his mind and the hallucinations due to lack of sleep were getting worse.

But the creature looked different, yet quite the same, he could tell it was the same one he saw, even though it seemed older.

Black fur was now added to its former colors at the base of its paws. It seemed it wanted to frighten him, but also persuade him.

Virgil held its stare, the animal didn't seem to move an inch.

« What? » he snapped, arms slightly opening in the act.

The yellow-eyed fox started pacing towards him, an elegant posture was still somehow kept in its cautious movements.

Virgil didn't take his eyes off of it, it felt like 5 years earlier: it was as if there was some sort of force tugging him in a particular direction. It was stronger than before and the lingering feeling of the animal's glare on him provoked some sort of persuasion and curiosity altogether.

The little villager just stood and watched as the creature paced forward until little to no space was left between them, then something switched in its expression after it looked around and set its focus back on Virgil with gloomy eyes.

Was it looking for Roman?

« He's not here. » Virgil wished he had said it with the most collected tone, but surprisingly found his voice cracked as if it had been smashed through a thousand palaces. It sounded rough, colliding with the ethereal aura of the place. The fox tilted its head slightly.

« What are you waiting for? It's not like he will come back. » another crash, he felt himself rapidly break down like most of the times when he listened to the thoughts screaming and raging in his head. He let his burning eyes fall to the ground and close, as the dark corners of his mind took completely over him.

« … ever. He won't- » his breath hitched and when he opened his eyes again he was on the ground, almost at eye-level with the pitying creature. He looked at his hands in terror, they were trembling visibly, his breathing grew shorter, sharp, but never like those wheezes he learnt to recognize. This was something else. How long had it been since he had last spoken to someone?

This was worse. So much worse.

His fingers brushed his cheek to find it soaking in overflowing tears already making their way on his skin; he digged his hands in his hair as to hold on for dear life. He hated when this happened. He had no control over himself, he felt hopeless, more helpless than usual, rationality flew out of his body, it was as if all of his feelings had smashed the button of “overload”, while a clutching sensation weighted down his stomach.

His mind raced between flashbacks of his childhood, belittling himself, the urge to just give up and lie down forever until someone would eventually pick him up and live his life in his place.

He was completely huddled on himself when he felt something soft trying to make its way through his limbs, as if it wanted him to relax his body and get his arms away from his face. Virgil had no choice but to comply and let the fox … help him? He felt too weak to care about what was happening anyway.

When the animal started brushing its head against Virgil's hand, he suddenly remembered about one of the doctors' suggestion; he opened his eyes and focused on his surroundings.

Five things he could see. The green blades of grass, the glimmering lake, those funny shaped clouds, the trees all around him and the fox by his side. He took another deep breath that he let out from the mouth.

Four things he could touch. The lightweight of his simple clothes, the soles of his shoes, his bangs brushing his forehead and the soft fur through his fingers. He closed his eyes.

Three things he could hear. Birds flying out of their nests to get some food for their nestlings, his rapid breath slowing down, little fishes occasionally jumping out of the lake and then back on the water.

Two things he could smell. The flowers that had started blossoming in that period, the simple essence of the forest's nature.

One thing he could taste. Oh. Had he eaten yet today?

His evened out and steady breathing had him finally relaxed, he kind of felt a smile tugging at his lips for some reason, maybe it was the comfort of the little animal, maybe because he finally got a hold of himself.

But while he pet the unusual friend, there was something he didn't notice. Someone he didn't see, but that could see him. It was somewhere Virgil had never reached. One of the deepest parts of the forest.

The man grinned in his dark room while the only source of light was a cloud of magic smoke in front of him, beaming with the picture of Virgil sitting on the grass and smiling at the fox.

The brightness touched his face with delicacy, yet you could make out the details of it with simplicity.

Like the burnt skin on the left side of his face that made it look like little scales were all over his cheek. Or the literal glowing, bright yellow eyes that slowly turned into a mild shade of white as the vision and smoke both faded away.

The man in the dark smirked.

_« Perfect. »_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I made almost all of them cry in a single chapter, woosh.  
> Look who's back from the dead? I know I promised you to have the chapter released soon, but the new sanders sides episode had come out and I obsessed over it and things came up so here I am two hundred years late.  
> As for the next update, I don't have much ready so you'll have to be waiting a bit for it, nothing specific this time.  
> I'm currently working on a Prinxiety one-shot that I hope I can release soon, plus in September I'll be participating in the little event with daily prompts dedicated to the series, so I might post something in here too.  
> Also, I'll be soon starting the last year of high school, so updates will be definitely slower, but I won't give up, promise.  
> Thank you for sticking around till now, I'll hear from you soon!  
> As always, thank you to every comment, kudos, bookmark and shy silent reader! (I see you and I love you)


	4. Lightened up darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be longer but I also wanted to give you guys something as I haven't updated in two months djkssj pardon me  
> Warnings:  
> -scars mention  
> -implied insomnia  
> -minor panic attack  
> -negativity  
> -mention of terminal illness
> 
> Please tell me if I missed anything, until then, enjoy!

_❝ My mother, she told me_

_"Don't get in trouble"_

_My father, he told me_

_He knew I would._

_My brothers, they told me_

_"Don't give a damn"_

_My sister, she told me_

_To do something good ❞_

 

 

A flock of ravens was startled awake as the man in the black cape appeared between trees and forest plants through a flash of light, as if a thunder had just erupted from the barks surrounding him.

With a precise direction in his mind, he followed those instincts that never dared to fail him and let himself be dragged toward the place his familiar was busying itself.

The boy he had seen was still sitting on the grass, petting the fox by his side and giving it all his attention.

He approached them, careful not to make a sound. He didn't want him to end up like the ravens.

At a safe distance, sure he wasn't already in his field of view, he extended his gloved hand towards the boy and let a smirk play on his lips for as long as he didn't speak.

« Got lost, kid? »

While Virgil's head snapped up to look at the source of the sound, time seemed to slow down to a stop. His eyes went from the bright yellow glove not too far from his body, to focusing on the face of the man. To the white in his irises.

And the horrid scars on his cheek.

The man was sure time had started up again when he heard the kid bolt away in his opposite direction.

Eventually, he ended up like the ravens.

Not long had passed before he had lost hope for Virgil to return. He could as well have began his search again, just for someone else that might have been as much a good fit as him. But there was a certain feeling in his guts, something he couldn't exactly give a name to, which told him to procrastinate on that.

In fact, he had found the perfect amount of broken in that single soul.

Despite preferring the dark his home had to offer – more times than he could count he had found the light outside to be too strong even for his blind eyes – he let himself wander around the spot in front of his habitation. His familiar lent him its sight, responding to his every command as if it were a telepathic being.

He sat down next to it after adjusting to the sudden change of atmosphere; he could see the green around him and raised a hand to contrast the monotone colour.

Then, with automatic movements, his palm faced the sky, while his fingers refused to extend completely, some still sprawled over his palm.

He didn't even need to take a breath for the first flicker of light and smoke to be forming on top of his hand. The little aleatory shapes danced around themselves, some slow, permitting one to see the change from a pitch black hue to a somewhat light violet. Others were so quick they blended into a single multi-colored flame as they fought for dominance.

There was no spell to be cast, no purpose behind his work, he felt like he was back when he was still in training. All those years back...

His eye caught on something that felt off about the nature in front of him, right behind his hand: he had lived in there long enough to know every little change and detail of his surroundings.

The figure of the boy, trying his best despite failing in hiding behind one of the trees, sent excitement all over his body. But decided against making a move.

Instead, he used his other hand to put his show to a stop, joining the hands, only to open a new one as he separated them again.

Soon enough, a humanoid shape took over the scenery, walking on a pavement of black smoke: they were clearly wearing a hat and a cape. He knew it was working when he subtly noticed Virgil staring, but not running away.

After all, dark magic was prohibited in their kingdom.

The human shape put their hands to their face and soon enough was approached by another figure of the same likeness. As the newcomer passed a dark flame suspended in the air, they seemed to take away something at the eye-level of the first person.

The scenery changed when a fox appeared in front of the human with the cape, who knelt down to it and extended his hand. As soon as the two shapes came into contact, there was a tiny sparkle between them that changed into a reddish hue. Before he knew it, the scene had disappeared into a myriad of miniature sized fireworks, the glittery remaining flying down on his body and disappearing into the deep nothingness.

A small smile made its way on his face as the fox nuzzled closer to his leg.

The tale of how he met his familiar had always been one of his favorite stories to tell.

Despite how much it usually amazed and softened the people around him, when the man looked up, Virgil was nowhere to be found.

He couldn't have known yet that didn't mean it was a defeat.

Not until later, the day after, as he heard a timid knock on his door, the fox already bolting to the wooden entrance.

When he opened up, his eyes fixated on the mysterious person with an odd precision.

« Please, teach me how to do that. » they said.

The man didn't need to see who it was to understand the boy had inevitably fell into the game as well.

They had been sitting quietly in one of his not many rooms, the windows finally letting some light in.

« What is your name, kid? »

« Uhm, » for some unsettling reason, he hesitated. « Virgil. »

« Very well, Virgil. » he began, letting his chin rest on his hand. « I know you want to ask, go ahead. »

Virgil felt like he was piercing his skin with a simple stare, and shrank in his chair. « I don't... I wouldn't want to be rude. »

« Answers can be stupid, but questions are always valid. »

Virgil's mind seemed to twist for a second.

« Uh- What happened to your eyes? »

« I am merely blind. » he explained, moving his glance to the ground. « There are times in which you must pay a price. »

« Is it because of ... » the boy's voice trailed off, unable to find the perfect words.

« If you're wondering if this is for dark magic, not really. » the way he was so nonchalant to name it left Virgil taken aback. « Although, it requires to suffer to achieve it, it is easier to perform if the person has already been through hell and back. Like you. »

He knew he wasn't mistaken when he heard Virgil shift in his seat and basically _felt_ his gaze on him.

After a beat, the boy found voice and courage to talk again.

« Who are you? »

« For anybody who knew me, the name was Sir Amartìa, » he leaned on the table. « But the people in town liked to call me something else. » he smirked, underlining the fact that he had cut ties with those gents.

« What would it be? »

The man's eyes lit up and turned to a glowing shade of yellow, much like the fox's, who jumped up to sit on his lap.

« Deceit. »

 

* * *

 

Virgil spent three years with him.

His parents had given up on getting him a regular life, as far as he fed himself properly and started sleeping again, they didn't mind him wandering off in the woods for hours, only to return late in the night.

He knew he wasn't doing anything good, or something the citizens would have condoned, but it gave him a purpose, a target to achieve, something to look forward to.

He thought that, maybe, it could have fixed him.

The first purple glimmers that sparkled on his hand had sent so much joy and excitement in himself, a positivity he had long forgotten and had been afraid, as a child, that he would have never been able to experience again.

After he had been able to cast a few minor spells, Deceit had led him back to his home and told him to wait outside. He had informed him it was for the sake of a little surprise, a gift for his dedication and hard-working nature.

As someone who hardly even cared for his own birthday anymore, the anticipation seemed to give him goosebumps and drive him impatient. His mind raced through the options: could he be finally getting a familiar? Was he going to have a sorcerer outfit as well?

Deceit peeked from the half-open door and hid an object behind his back, barely able to conceal it.

« Close your eyes, snoopy. »

Virgil did as he was asked, even when he felt his arms being pulled outward: a cold sensation immediately caught his fingertips as a smooth object was placed on his hands.

He tilted his head to the side, not sure of what to think of it, a low hum stuck in his throat.

With one hand, he gripped a side of the item and was surprised to find … strings? They were definitely attached to one of the ends. Virgil arched an eyebrow, but couldn't stop the corner of his lip to twitch upward.

He opened his eyes after a moment of hesitation, and found a violin lying in his hands, as well as a bow being handed by the sorcerer facing him.

« Happy belated birthday, I suppose. »

Virgil didn't even notice his mouth was hung open when he examined the instrument and took the bow from Deceit's hands. He, as well, didn't recall deciding to launch himself at the man and trap him in a suffocating hug, but there he was, locking his arms around his chest. It felt like the last time he had done it had been years earlier.

« Hey, » Deceit gently pushed him away by the shoulders. « you said you wanted to use black magic as a neutral source. »

Virgil nodded, determined. For as long as he had heard of the tale and the laws that forced dark magic to be banned throughout the kingdom, he had been eager to find a way to prove people wrong.

Nothing was inherently bad, to be feared and lock away in the farthest corner of one's mind.

« We can start by simply shaping the substance magic is made of. You've seen me doing that once. »

A rose hue tinted Virgil's cheeks, embarrassed he had been easily caught.

« If you can put your mind into it, you will be able to control your own flow with the violin's strings. Only then the melody may tell a story. »

And Virgil had so many stories to tell.

He practiced daily, for hours, with such dedication that he amazed even himself, he felt drawn to the instrument and its music, he could forget about anything else and only concentrate on getting a tune right.

He played for the trees, the lakes and the flowers, he played for the forest animals brave enough to approach him and the fishes that weren't scared of the strings' vibrations.

Sometimes, when Deceit claimed he had to busy himself indoors, he basked in the sunlight that shined through the leaves and danced to the symphony he created. Tentative steps grew into twirls until he felt lightheaded and almost fell by tripping over himself.

Until one particular and seemingly tranquil afternoon.

The scenery was almost the same, with Virgil dancing with the air around him and the violin in his grip.

His eyes were already fixated on the strings when he saw a different hand, made of black smoke and purple light, pick on the chords for him.

Too frightened to realize what might have been happening, Virgil let the instrument fall to the ground, crashing and breaking right on the impact. He watched in horror as it went tumbling a few feet away from him.

His hands flew to his mouth before he even processed he had yelled.

Deceit swung the door open, eyes already flashing the familiar yellow color as he darted to the wide-eyed boy.

His glance went back and forth between Virgil and the broken violin on the ground. He sensed a strong magical aura from both.

« What happened?! » he demanded, placing himself between his apprentice and the instrument.

Virgil didn't answer, instead his breathing increased and tears welled up in his eyes: that was it, he failed, he was scared, it was too dangerous and couldn't help himself, he disappointed the last person that put trust into him and he was going to disregard him from there. He lost his occasion to prove himself that he actually valued anything.

He saw Deceit open his mouth and he braced for insults.

Which never came.

« Virgil, hey kid. » had he ever heard his voice soften up that much? « I need you to breathe for me here. I am simply concerned. »

He was barely able to make out any shape, or to focus on anything that wasn't the crushing anxiety that threatened to destroy his stomach. He trembled and shivered with small sobs, his hands were already shielding his eyes to protect him with darkness. It was like those nights with those thoughts.

« Can you hear me? »

_No no nononononono._

He crumbled to the ground, his shaky legs were too weak to bear standing up any longer. He didn't even sense Deceit catching him and kindly guiding him in a sitting position.

« Do you mind if I touch you? » why was he being so patient with him when he had ruined everything?

The familiar came closer to them, recognizing a situation it had experienced months before by then, and offered all the support it could give.

Deceit tentatively moved his hand to Virgil's fingers, trying to pry them away from his eyes as gently as he could.

As he succeeded, he gained enough confidence to wipe away the tears from his cheeks, even though new ones wet them again almost immediately.

« Focus on me, can you do that? » he waited for him to look up before he carried on. « I want to teach you something. »

Virgil saw him counting, he really wanted to follow him but he just _couldn't_ understand what was happening around him.

_One, two, three, four …_

_It's like the steps you do when you dance. Follow the rhythm._

_Five, six, seven._

He tried to relax his stiff muscles.

_Eight._

« It's fine, we can try again. » finally his hearing matched his lip-reading.

« Breathe in for four seconds. » Virgil did so, finding himself enthralled by the chanting of Deceit as he counted.

« That's wonderful. Now hold it for seven more. »

He didn't feel like choking anymore.

« Breathe out from your lips for eight seconds. » as he slowly complied, Deceit nodded and kept counting for him.

As soon as he was able to do it by himself, Deceit smiled and sat next to him.

« I apologize if I startled you. I heard you shouting, I thought the worst. »

Virgil didn't know how to answer. He wasn't used to apologies.

« Do you want to tell me what happened? »

« There was- » Virgil's voice was still shaky, he hated how he sounded like the ghost of his crying was still there.

He cleared both his throat and thoughts, as he would have been barely able to formulate a sentence of any meaning. « I- the violin. It was … I was playing it and something- a weird shape- it appeared right next to my face. »

« Do you recall it? »

Virgil dug in his most recent memories. « It looked like … a hand. Made of smoke. »

Deceit got up and picked up what remained of the instrument and the bow, only to turn back to his apprentice without looking away from the object.

« And what were you thinking about the exact moment before it appeared? » there was no way it had been someone else's deed. Virgil wasn't powerful enough to be envied by other mages, let alone trying to be manipulated.

« Uhm. » his thoughts traveled deeper, he remembered the melody he had been trying out and how difficult it was, but he had been settled on succeeding so much he didn't want to give up at all.

Realization struck him as he responded. « I thought that I could have used a hand. Because the song was too complex for me alone. »

« Are you sure you weren't the one that summoned it? » as Virgil saw the knowing look on Deceit's face, he could tell he had arrived to his conclusion.

« I did that? »

« You were emotionally invested. This permitted you to create a bond even with an inanimate object. » Deceit pointed to the violin in his hands, then set it on the ground, moved his hands on top of it until it was clouded by the now all too familiar smoke.

« Epanorthou. » the black turned into light blue and, when the mist had disappeared, there it laid the instrument, as if untouched and completely unfazed by the fall. Brand new.

Deceit caught Virgil staring in disbelief as he handed the violin back to him.

« Therefore, you gave it the ability to respond to your very needs, desires and commands. »

Virgil tried picking at the strings with his fingers. Nothing happened, especially because he wasn't particularly asking anything out of the instrument or his magic.

Then, he tested a few small tunes with the help of his bow.

_I'd like a setting played out for this one._

Just as the first string touched the bow and the notes danced around them in an imaginary musical notation, at the same time a flicker escaped from the source of the melody and shape-shifted into a small forest scene.

Virgil stopped, and with him the magic flow turned into white stardust. This time, he felt confidence pervade his senses.

« Keep practicing. » Deceit encouraged him, walking back to the door he came from.

He couldn't hide his pride, for sure. That kid had managed to handle his magic so well in so little time! Anyone would have been amazed, too bad they had to hide in its shade.

It was when he glanced back at how the familiar danced around the boy, that he knew.

He was going to protect Virgil at all costs.

Not long after that, steaming teas were prepared and drank, a certain fox was pet and conversations were being held.

Their chat had been going on for quite sometime when the wizard had to stop Virgil after hearing a detail he didn't remember giving out to him.

« I told you that? » Deceit's white irises fell to the ground in a pensive look.

« You … did it just now. »

« Oh. » he pondered, leaning on a piece of furniture. « Must be this headache I'm having. » he mused and placed a hand on his forehead with a pained expression.

Virgil was rather confused, but shrugged and brushed it off; he couldn't really prove whether he might have had some kind of condition he hadn't told him about.

« Why don't you rest? I'll have your familiar by my side. » the fox promptly showed at Virgil's feet.

« Perhaps that'd be for the best. »

Virgil had been practicing for quite some time outside, when he noticed a certain golden flicker coming from the fox with the corner of his eye and sighed in defeat.

 

* * *

 

« How did it happen, anyway? » Virgil was sixteen when he finally managed to ask about the story behind Deceit’s eyes. It took him an year to find the courage he felt when Deceit had barely mentioned his blindness in a discussion.

The man turned from the counter where he was placing some of the herbs found during one of their walks.

« You said it wasn't because of dark magic. »

« It's a bit heavy for a youngster like yourself. I doubt you'd want to hear it. »

« Try me. »

Deceit let out a sigh and abandoned his task, leaning against the counter, while Virgil reached him and sat on top of it.

« I used to live in another village before. » he talked to the air as if he was narrating a story to an audience in front of them.

« Everything was the same old miserable but oddly functioning and lament free livelihood, just like your place. But, of course, that didn't stop disgrace to fall onto people for natural or other circumstances. » his voice turned bitter, before recomposing himself.

« Everyone that saw me asked if I was alright. I said I was and that the blurriness I saw could have been easily fixed with a good pair of glasses. »

His head turned to the side and his glance hovered over where he believed Virgil's eyes were. He blinked a few times.

« The first doctor I went to diagnosed me with an eye condition. Another one told me it was a simple sickness related to the discoloration of the irises. » uncovering old wounds didn't have to be so painful, yet there he was, holding back tears with the profound hope Virgil wouldn't have noticed.

« The last ones were professionals, » he took a deep breath. « And told me I had a terminal illness. »

Virgil was glad he couldn't see his expression. He placed a hand on Deceit’s shoulder, finding physical contact to be the only way he would have been able to show support.

On the other hand, Deceit couldn't wait to change the topic. « I was around thirteen I think, when a hermit traveled to our village. Just in time, he said he could have fixed the problem. None believed him until he gave a demonstration of his skills in public. Black smoke and indigo lightnings were enough for the people to condemn him and lock him out of the village. »

« But wasn't your life in the line? Didn't they care about it? »

« They would've soon stopped doing that too, anyway. »

Virgil arched an eyebrow, and let his confusion slip away as Deceit carried on his explanation.

« I reached out to him. I was going to get cured by myself. He told me he was going to cure the illness, but that I would end up blind for the rest of my life. My eyes turned white after the spell, which I agreed to without hesitation, and that only confirmed the type of condition I had. » he extended a hand to caress the fur of his familiar.

« Then he told me he could have helped me seeing again if I wanted, but I had to learn his magic first. I did, I escaped my own village, I found a familiar I could trust, then I was by myself out here. » he motioned to Virgil and himself. « And here we are. »

Virgil wanted to ask about why he had to escape rather than wanting to leave the place in a peaceful way. But, seeing as Deceit had barely brushed the memory, he decided against it.

« You never met the guy again? »

« No. He disappeared right after I met this fox. He said his duty was done. »

« That sounds sketchy. » Virgil eyed him warily.

« Or, he was actually a creep I shouldn't have approached as a thirteen years old. »

He stifled a laugh. « You're here now, though. »

Deceit looked down at his familiar, now curled up between his feet, always in need of human touch when sleepy. « Yeah, » he smiled almost imperceptibly to himself. « I think I'm glad. »

 

* * *

 

_He remembered the cries._

_Howling. Screams. All those different voices he didn't realize actually came from him alone._

Virgil, now seventeen, paced around the forest shack in search of the seemingly absent wizard. Now, where could a blind sorcerer have gone without his familiar?

That was inexplicable. He never left without warning, nor did he leave the animal or the house completely unlocked and devoid of protection charms.

That was … too unusual.

Virgil grabbed his magical belongings and started running.

_He had lost control over himself. All he wanted was to prove his power and worth to the other citizens, but there he was, horridly looking at his hands as solid scales made their way through his body, thickening his skin with every second._

The villager ended up following the familiar to a pattern it seemed to know a little too well to be casual; there was another clearing in the forest he hadn't been told to check yet. Deceit had explained there was nothing to be noted in that spot and that he had, consequentially, to ignore it.

Little did he know he was going to find him right there, peacefully sitting on top of a fallen tree trunk.

_Alastair was at his side, but his vision was blinded with utmost fear and confusion, his agitated state worsened his condition and a suffocating feeling filled his chest._

_« Deceit! »_

« Deceit? »

_The sorcerer's glance shifted to the spell book at their feet. A formula gone wrong. « What have you done? »_

« Deceit? »

_His eyes closed shut, his brain on the verge of exploding, his body heating up with impetuous emotions. He felt his shoulders being grabbed, a light flashed before his eyelids and the ringing in his ears ceased._

A slight tap on his left shoulder snapped him back to life, he intook some breath sharply and scrambled to his feet, searching for the source of it with a wary look.

Virgil threw his hands up. « It's me. »

He watched him slowly relax, as if he were trying to hide the fact that his heart had been pounding in his chest just a moment before. The fox immediately brushed its fur between his ankles and lent its sight.

« Didn't see you there. » he attempted at a joke, which failed to be delivered as Virgil's expression didn't change.

« What- »

_« -happened? » Alastair's demanding tone had a veil of deep concern._

_The citizens._

_They had definitely heard. They were going to be after him._

_« We need to leave. »_

_« What are you talking about?» there were barely hints of his voice, more startled noises._

_« About them.» Alastair gestured to the window and, in that single motion, he gathered a multitude of meanings and dangers._

_« They're not gonna be like that. » how could Deceit still put trust in the people that had already started to despise him was the greatest mystery the sorcerer had ever encountered._

_« I beg you to rethink this. »_

_« It's fine. No need to worry about me. »_

_« They will turn against you, I assure you. »_

_« They're not going to end up like that. »_

« You can't pretend I didn't see you holding your head like you were having a migraine. »

_Monster. Inhuman. Beast. Abnormal. Miscreation. Revolting. Sickening._

_They ended up being like that._

Deceit winced, reminiscent of a past wound that still stung right under his skin.

« Want to know how I got this? » he gestured to the scars that traveled down his cheek, cutting his eye in two symmetrical halves.

« Yes. » Virgil didn't hesitate.

« I didn't. »

Virgil shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as the response set in his mind. Did that mean anything? Was this another life lesson? He kept silent, looking for a clue, when a sad smile formed on the man's lips.

A swift movement of his hand covered the left side of his face and, altogether, the scars vanished, leaving greenish-coloured scales in their place.

Virgil couldn't help but watch as he removed his gloves only to reveal more of them down his arms and fingers.

« There are more. » Deceit declared, his tone was so low Virgil wondered if he was actually suppressing a devilish voice that remained after a failed experience.

« Was this a curse? » the boy analyzed it all from a distance, he could almost feel the magical aura around them.

« I suppose. This is the result of inexperience. » he tapped on the scales on his cheek. « And the reason why I insist on being around when you perform new spells. »

That was when it hit Virgil. _He had done that._

« Why do you cover them with an illusion? »

Deceit raised his eyes from the ground where they were implanted and fixated them on him in a blank stare.

« Because people are _complete_ jerks. »

« I don't recall anyone around here apart from you, though. »

« And yet, you found me. You may never know. Prevention is better than cure. » his glance shifted to a pond nearby. « And compassion is better than a death threat. »

Of course, dragon-like skin would have alarmed anyone with enough brains to work out the single danger signal that would have derived from such a sight; scars, though? Empathetic individuals would have simply smiled sadly to themselves and moved on.

Virgil, though? He had an undecipherable expression, like someone had written in hieroglyphics on his face. He understood his decision and respected it, but there was still that sour aftertaste that left him ponder to what extent that situation was okay.

But it wasn't, at all.

Deceit stood up with a deep sigh, his fox trailing after him with silent contentment, with the intention on heading back to his habitation. He was stopped by Virgil's hand on his sleeve.

« Are you going to be alright? » how could he fool him, of all people? Virgil went through similar doleful circumstances, which made him the most understanding of the situation in the first place.

« Why, yes. I was merely reminiscing. » Deceit lied, but didn't move.

« Do you need a hug? »

He turned to face Virgil and offered a half smile while holding back tears.

« Please. »

 

* * *

 

There was something fizzy in the air that morning.

Sure, with autumn around the corner, the temperature was on its way to get lower with each day, but Virgil had this _sensation_ in his guts.

He was eighteen in that moment, which made him old and experienced enough in the supernatural to know what that feeling meant.

Virgil felt literal shocks sparkling around him, as if tiny thunders formed in mid air and disappeared the moment they showed themselves. The sound of static filled the silence here and there, lights and flickers made him buzz with an excitement he couldn't give a cause to.

He approached Deceit's home in the woods with a faster pace than usual. Once inside, he saw his literally glowing eyes looking through a woven bag. He heard the clinking of coins.

« What, are you going on holiday? » he smirked and took a seat in front of him.

« Something like that. » Deceit grinned and closed the bag before putting it back on a reserved spot on the wooden counter.

Virgil raised his eyebrow. « Huh? »

« Oh, you're coming with, too. »

« Sure, just let me go ask my parents for permission. »

Deceit let out a short laugh. « I'm serious. » he lifted his yellowish eyes to meet Virgil's, which were slowly growing wider. « We're leaving. »

The boy was stunned. « Wha- Wait, what do you mean? Where are we going? » he stared at the man, who smirked right after.

« The capital's center. Hopefully, also the royal palace. »

Virgil wasn't sure if he had just stopped breathing, or altogether existing. He was sure, on the other hand, of the hit his heart gave to his rib cage, so hard he was worried he'd have a broken bone by the subsequent few seconds.

At the mention of the palace, his hand instinctively flew to a certain golden and emerald bracelet in his pocket.

He hadn't been thinking about _that_ for years.

Seeing that the boy was, for some reason, too taken aback to react, Deceit continued. « I heard they're holding some kind of festival soon. A talents show of sorts? There are going to be people from our kingdom participating, the best three competitors are going to perform in front of the two royal families that will be merged in the upcoming marriage. They're going to decide which of the three is the winner and they're going to let them stay at the palace and, eventually, attend the wedding too. »

To be fair, Virgil wasn't able to pay attention to the details. For the first time in eight years, he was given a chance to, maybe, see Roman again.

The name felt almost foreign even for his own mind.

« What will we do? » the blatant determination with which he spoke gave, right then, a meaning to the previous fizzy air.

« You can perform. » Deceit got up from his seat and approached him, before placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning slightly forward. « Show them dark magic isn't inherently wicked. That was your goal, wasn't it? »

Virgil smiled imperceptibly with the corner of his mouth. He nodded.

« Let's achieve it, then. » he backed away and opened his arms, his yellow glowing irises almost pierced Virgil's body in the dim light.

« Let's make history. »

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reaching this line!  
> So, finally our snake boy is here, what might he be up to? Is he even up to something? If you have any theories already on what might happen, let me know, I'd love hearing from you  
> Next chapter, again, I have no idea when it'll be out, school started and I'm already doing tests, last year sucks, but I'm not going to abandon you!  
> As always, thank you all for bookmarks, kudos and your wonderful comments! I appreciate every single reader, hope you're liking it this far~


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